


Barren Ardor

by CarbonCock, Off_Line



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/F, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarbonCock/pseuds/CarbonCock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Off_Line/pseuds/Off_Line
Summary: After the nen exorcist removed the judgment chain from Chrollo's heart, Kurapika was determined to find him once again and make sure he's back in his life-long torment.Chrollo though? Chrollo plans on snatching up his close friend and using him as leverage for other, far more interesting plans.
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer & Kurapika
Comments: 19
Kudos: 63





	1. EPISODE I: Unforeseen Setback

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this uhhhhhhhhh let me know and I'll keep writing. Well, I'm gonna do it anyway, but encouragement is pretty fucking epic.
> 
> Shoutout to the loser who's editing this for me.

Their heist had been pulled off without a hitch. Or rather, the opposition was just not strong enough. When were they ever, though? His mind began tracing back past events in hopes of finding something that was far more bothersome when compared to a scot-free deal, with the _Mairukōran_ no less. Details about the target escaped him once they’d gotten what was wanted, with that in mind, Chrollo could only pinpoint that it used to be in the possession of some Padokean big wig. 

In the Republic of Padokea, of course. Somewhere neighbouring Dentora Region, he assumed. The elusive, pain in the ass that was Illumi Zoldyck had gone off to ‘foresee something,’ which Chrollo assumed was stalking his old childhood home. 

The Zoldyck family was nothing short of a dull thorn in his side; appearing only whenever money served them best, and it seems that Illumi had long been discarded, or at least disillusioned enough for him to accept his poised invitation to Gen’ei Ryodan. Chrollo was aware the guy had his own agenda, and his loyalties lay bare only in momentary contracts, however it was far better to pick up the broken kids (and subsequently  _ toys _ ) that Silva let go of. 

Given his personality, he probably expected them to come back in due time. Well, There were very few circumstances wherein Chrollo would even reconsider their positions in the Ryodan, and he made sure to hold an apprehensive grip on both of them for good measure. 

Moving on, he’d spent too much time mulling over this. It was time to get up, breathe a little; since he forgot to do so in the fifteen seconds he’d been conversing with his internal monologue.  _ When one is aware that they walk towards the path of Hell, they ought to make due with whatever time they have left escaping it in the living realm. _ Which was another roundabout way of musing about how much of a stupid waste of time sitting locked up in a hotel room when he could be doing far more interesting things is.

Originally, he’d opened the  _ Mairukōran,  _ a hand slowly tracing the back cover while the other wistfully turned the corner of each page to welcome him with another. Issue was, he started thinking about something else entirely instead of paying attention, and now he was in the present, wondering what he was doing. He’d read the book once already, captivated by it, even slightly amused at the theories, analogies and  _ prophesied ways of life  _ from the past. No matter, he’d pawn it off whenever he was done enjoying this piece of artistic history.

Ergo, it was time to put it away and go out. Had Uvogin still been alive, this would’ve happened long ago. At the same time, havoc would have been wreaked and so forth. Unfortunately, he isn’t anymore, and a sharp pang of guilt introduced itself into Chrollo’s upper torso when he got up. If it weren’t for his miscalculations, they may have survived. On the same thought, Spiders lay down their lives. To die fighting is an honour, a crude one to the ones left living, but an honour nonetheless. His head tipped upon moving, his hair coming forwards and gracing his face. It was enough to snap him out of reminiscing. 

Locating his sleeveless T-shirt, he pulled it over his head thoughtlessly, actions automatic. Was the sun too bright for his coat? Probably. He pulled it over his arms anyway. 

// 

The book was on him, of course. Who else could he leave this thing with right now? Even worse, imagine that a hotel room in a populated city would spare them of enemies? The Gen’ei Ryodan was known world-wide, as some sort of picturesque religiously symbolic order. Meteorites considered it sanctimonious to some extent, and the intelligent ones didn’t dare recognise their existence publicly in fear of what may bite them in the future. Their reputation preceded them at first sight, though they knew better than that.

The Spiders were split, for the most part. Franklin with Feitan and Phinks, Nobunaga with Machi, and who else may have gotten together after being told by what time they’d have to be back. They weren’t children of course, and could fend for themselves, so Chrollo didn’t bother with tracing the remnants of their nen left just to see where they may have gone. Currently, the only one worrying him was Illumi, and what other  _ elusive bullshit _ he could be up to.  _ In due time. _

__

The open market was bustling; this place being the main reason Chrollo trudged out of his room today. It was packed with people  _ and potential victims _ which he could use to entertain himself with for a bit. He wasn’t one to murder just to murder, preferring to keep off the radar while the authorities, and Hunters alike (with money like that? They’d have to be stupid not to resort to Hunters) tried to catch them. It would certainly lead towards some level of fun, or at least wasting some time while they still had to be in the Republic, although definitely not much of a regal threat to the Ryodan. 

Oh, right... What was he thinking about again?

At this point, he’d carelessly ran his hand over a few trinkets here and there, flashing the owners a charming smile. The kind that puts the non-suspecting at ease, after all, not everyone was on their level. His mind briefly led him to burning red eyes and an aura pouring with unbridled rage. Bad place.

Let’s ignore that, and act like it never happened instead: he ought not to let the power and position in the underground world get him drunk off his ass, though. A little ego boost provided by the gullible never hurt. Small things matter most, people.

The sun was blaring, the chatter was loud, and the air carried the allure of delicious food. He had the jenny for anything he wanted, sure, but what thief buys things they can just take? A shitty one. Carefully, he slipped through the crowds of people and made himself unnoticed. Perfectly easy tactic to just swipe whatever he wanted without making much of a commotion, given that using nen for this sort of thing was too extra even for him. That and, staying on the down low. Chrollo eyed the cop trio by the streetlight pole with mild indifference. No one he really had to deal with, for the time being.

Well, it wasn’t likely that they’d get caught at all since-- 

_ What was that?  _

Just now, for the faintest moment, a twinge of aura washed over him. It was unfriendly, on it’s guard for sure. Nothing new in his field of work, really. This could become an issue.

Using zetsu right now would be a terrible idea; his best bet was concealing himself in the crowd of people and checking out the nen user in the area. It wasn’t necessarily strong, gave away the fact that the person responsible may just be fresh blood to the game, which made Chrollo wonder why they’d bother getting someone that inexperienced on a band of criminals that they knew to be of higher caliber. Did they know who they were dealing with? Unlikely. 

The octopus legs on a stick that he’d been eating remained in his mouth for a second, taking out half of the unfinished product and mindlessly chewing, letting his legs lead the way. Au natural, as always. Shizuku had told him on more than one occasion that he spent too long solemnly overthinking every situation possible (and who could blame him, given that strategy won him many battles), which could lead him to assuming the worst in most situations. It was best to stick to a group of people at all times, given he didn’t dress up for some sort of mission in the first place. 

Walking in the direction he first sensed the nen, he made sure not to forget to be mindful of his emotions lest his aura attract his current prey. Everyone already knew how dangerous and unpredictable one’s own nen can be if not kept in check, and since this was just a little game Chrollo picked up out of bland interest, he decided he’d leave if the nen user proved not to have anything of interest. Who knows, there could be some treasured ability he could pick off of a newbie. Chrollo wasn’t the type to be beyond that. 

As the output of nen got stronger, so did his interest in the target. Given the proximity, he decided to go incognito and tail the guy. And as he did, well. Another signature of nen came up; one that gave him an intense sensation of deja vu. It washed over him; steeled, hostile and experienced. So this is  _ why  _ the newbie was around. Made sense. One can’t help but hope to see pitiful idiots with an insatiable ego and booming confidence sometimes; they were easy to crush. Quick dopamine, he wagers. He stepped out of the second target’s range; using zetsu to make sure he wasn’t immediately discovered once he got closer to them. 

In about five seconds, he was hidden on top of a nearby apartment complex; situated in the middle of the city. There was a park on the left side, and a roundabout right next to it. Cars pooled around it, trying to make it to their measly destination, and Chrollo reveled in the fact that he could disrupt their livelihoods as a tea time activity if he wished to.

_ Just like others had done to him.  _ To say Meteor City wasn’t _ survive or die no matter what _ , and  _ you don’t have the means to afford caring for another person _ was an understatement. It was the sleepless nights, the fervor with which he fought for his life against elders that knew he was quick and easy work, being famished while struggling to breath under a sun that peels away at your skin, and in a trash land that corrodes your lungs completely if you weren’t unfortunate enough to be born here, that made him want things he wished to admire. Or the very best of them. Polished suits, the best food, things like that. 

If he had to fight the world for them, then so be it; he’d done so with the mafia and they had no choice but to step down if they wanted to maintain their slaveship with  _ Meteor City’s worst. _

Ah, how could he forget? Of course, that’s who it was.  _ The chain user.  _

//

Out of reflex, he squinted. Who was he with, anyway? No ally he’d seen before; although the opportunity he’d just been presented with was perfect. It as time to observe, well observe them bickering anyway. He couldn’t hear much more than the taller’s indignant shouting as a response. So he got closer, keeping a careful eye on the blond. He wasn’t in the mood to lose his nen again, and finding the exorcist who freed him of the other’s curse was going to be finicky (if he wasn’t dead). 

If anyone would know that this was Ryodan work, it was the chain user. Looks like his instincts were as sharp as ever in this case. One wrong movement, and he was out. Should he keep playing with the chain user until the Spiders had to leave? Or should he do it for longer? Hard, hard questions to answer. For now he decided just to eavesdrop.

“Out of all jobs to take, you decided to take this one!” spiky hair, glasses, chiseled jaw. The way his back was hunched and shoulders pushed upwards made it obvious that this was his original tail. He seemed exasperated. The chain user furrowed his brow, the edges of his mouth turned downwards unpleasantly. His tone was much lower, and thus not tangible enough from this vantage point. Well, there goes hearing someone, with more than two neurons rubbing one another, speak.

“Well, it’s not like it seems like a bad idea, I guess,” did this guy not have a lower volume? His voice lowered, but not enough to not be within Chrollo’s ear shot. The chain user kept his arms folded, trying to ignore whatever (irritating he presumed) input the other had to offer, electing instead to do things his way and his way alone. Made sense, given the chain user’s original MO in Yorkshin City. He looked around, trying to remain inconspicuous to the average person and whoever (Chrollo) may be watching, although it seems he only did so out of pure reflex and not dictated action. Otherwise, he was sure that he would’ve found  _ his _ ass, and the spying would come to an end. It’s been a while since he regained his nen, fully aware that the chain user knows he’s free.

Well, he had the time. It wouldn’t hurt to sit idly by and observe some more; see whatever pieces of their personalities he could take advantage of with his superficial charm. His intentions towards the chain user were as follows; avoid him at all costs until there’s a better plan in place. Something to take advantage of him of, so he could get rid of him once and for all. Chrollo’s fully aware of why he’s here and why he wants his head on a stake. 

The edges of his eyes gave him away a lifetime ago when chains wrapped around him in the coldest, most suffocating way. He’d compare it to the merciless weather of his homeland. It put him in the same foul mood, and the only real exception was that he couldn’t escape the suffocation of conjured chains made specifically to hunt him down. All his fault, really. For being too greedy, for creating what he thinks to be some of the world’s most beautiful pieces of art. Taking the  _ Scarlet Eyes _ will probably be his undoing if he isn’t careful this time. 

Chrollo briefly remembers the fury pooling in his eyes when he declared he’d hunt him down and drag him into Hell. Oh well.

That was interesting, that sort of power. Could do a lot with it. Maybe if he didn’t massacre an entire clan wanting what he didn’t need, maybe in another lifetime, he could’ve had the blond on his side. There must be a way to at least get the other to submit somehow. 

Chrollo eyed Leorio. The perfect fool for his brewing plan. He got as close as he could to assess the current situation between the two. Inconspicuous; having hastily walked to the closest place with an outdoor area. A cafe, perfect. It had umbrellas and sheltering from the sun, which made it even easier for him to hide away. The risk was being spotted if the dangerous one came his way, but he won’t be caught a second time by the likes of him. 

“Well, you got what you came here for,” Big Mouth was back in the game.

“I suppose so. Are you sure this is something you’re capable of handling,  _ Leorio _ ?” 

“Spare me that crap, Kurapika! I wouldn’t leave you stranded on your own. Gon and Killua went off on their own, besides. You always keep important, dangerous shit from me. I thought I was your friend, Kurapika!” well, that’s dramatic.

_ Kurapika, hm?  _

__

Kurapika (old alias: chain user) was half a sentence away from possibly punching his company into the sun, if stiff shoulders said anything. 

Chrollo ordered while they bickered, electing to wait for them to part ways so he could take advantage of the loyal fool that’s the... Definitely emitter, guy. 

Drinking his black coffee, he waited.

//

It was only a matter of time before Kurapika left, which so happened to be ten minutes after their initial gathering. This left the other party pretty much defenseless, something Chrollo took solace in for the time being. The chase as exhilarating, sure. That didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. 

They parted ways in different directions. 

_ Good. _

__

With the interest of taking the chain user’s ally skyrocketing, he casually got up and made quick work to follow his prey. Zetsu probably won’t be necessary now, though it was better to be safe than sorry. From his point of view, it looked like Leorio’s head was filled with rocks sparking up against one another. No real threat at all. What made someone so strong befriend someone so insanely daft, he wondered. 

Five minutes later, right as Leorio turned the corner towards an alleyway, Chrollo got him. His inner child was capable of yelling ‘gotcha!’ with a huge grin on his face, something he easily restrained himself from doing because it was

1) stupid

2) would attract attention

The Fun Fun Cloth was handy for capturing and transporting without being noticed, which is why he got out Bandit’s Secret and the Fun Fun Cloth within the five seconds it took Leorio to come towards the designated alley. Giving the cloth a semi-tight knot, he pocketed the screaming Leorio. It was best if he found some way to shut the guy up before mingling with the crowds and making it to the meeting tonight.

Going back to the hotel room he ransacked was probably a bad idea. The body of the lovely person who was unlucky enough to meet their doom (their fault in retrospect; shouldn’t have gotten such a good suite) should have been found by now.

//

The lack of proper oxygen lulled his victim into sleeping before he had to find a way to silence him himself. Hostage situations could prove annoying, and even downright shitty, if the person he was going to bargain with had him wrapped up in chains again. 

_ No _ , it was his turn this time. He wasn’t one who’d stray from killing, so Leorio being alive was an absolute necessity for his plan to run smoothly.

_ Don’t forget you already massacred the guy’s entire bloodline. Will you dare take one more life from him? _

__

_ Of course not, how else would I get Kurapika to either join, or get off my cock? _

__

Chrollo spent the rest of his evening fucking around the open market, and swiping some more food before making his way towards the outskirts of the city. It was their safest bet at all times to just pick a place that was uninhabited. Less people see them that way, plus, it was easy to make their escape if something did go wrong. 

He was the first to arrive. In the middle of a couple rundown buildings, and with a few of the candles he got ahold of. Some were lit up around the empty, broken down main hall. The sky was filled with gloom and clouds this time around, which meant the only light that surfaced was from the candles mainly. 

Chrollo pulled out the Fun Fun Cloth, undid the knot, and released his current hostage. The same way a fair maiden would bat her handkerchief at a boat that’s parting away for sea with her husband in it. Just less aggressively, he supposed. Leorio was tied up within a flash, before he ever had the chance to fully wake up, and sat in a drowsy state. The darkness enveloped him more than it did Chrollo, given he was barely awake. 

There. That’s that. Now, it was only a matter of time before  _ Kurapika _ would notice something was amiss,  _ soooo... There it is. _ Found his mobile phone. No messages or calls. 

_ Just a little longer, then. _

He found the perfect spot in the back of the room, facing forward to have the perfect view of Leorio, who would wake up before long and start screaming his head off. Nothing out of character. The small ember beside him lit up the book he’d brought with him just enough; one hand held open the  _ Mairukōran,  _ while the other remained draped over his leg. One move to the left and his entire arm would be on the floor, and he remained in his hunched position by the candle, still, motionless.

The edges of his mouth curled inwards a little more. Being so close to tasting triumph on his tongue, and one without so much hassle at that. 

It wasn’t long before Leorio woke up, screamed a couple paragraphs at Chrollo, and was met with indifference. He only demonstrated an inkling of his power when needed, as his reputation already preceded what he was capable of. Besides, it would make it even harder to be on Kurapika’s good terms.

Well. Maybe kidnapping would make it harder than paralyzing people close to him. 

_ Tomatoe tomato. What was he supposed to do? _

__

_ // _

__

_ Where was he? He was supposed to get back to the base over an hour ago. He won’t even answer his phone.  _

__

Kurapika was quick to irritation, that much was obvious. Leorio wasn’t the irresponsible type (just a tad behind), and he also generally answered his phone. Ironically enough, the ongoing theme was that  _ Kurapika _ was the one always putting _ Leorio’s _ calls on hold, not the other way around. TL;DR:?

This spelled bad news. 

After the fourth ring, he finally picked up his damn phone--

“Hello?” 

Instead of Leorio’s annoying, deafening yell in response to being called so many times, came a shallow response, the indifference and nonchalant attitude being accentuated in the tone alone. The vocal representation of a lion staring down its prey without moving to defend itself in any way, is what first came to mind.

A shiver ran down his spine; electrifying and leaving him in a cold sweat when he realised who it was.

_ Gen’ei Ryodan. _

__

**_ “What have you done to him?!”  _ ** His eyes were far too close to burning red; and his voice was capable of shattering windows if he lost care completely. 

“Nothing of concern. He’s currently under our watchful eye,”  _ the asshole spoke.  _

__

“What do you want?” 

“A meeting.”

“For?”

“Are you truly in the position to ask questions like that?”

Kurapika was  _ this _ close to throwing his phone into the wall. Chrollo continued without the need for a response.

“Town center. Ten minutes.” 

_ Beep _

__

Town center... What for? There was no way they were holed up in such a public place. He paced back and forth in a line and flung his arms mechanically, thinking. Kurapika was sharp, and intelligent. His emotions, however, got the best of him, and Chrollo had a nice hold of his weakness: knew since the moment the other’d wrapped a line of chains around his mouth, silencing him out of pure anger. 

The fact that he didn’t realise until now infuriated him further. He had no choice but to go; Leorio wasn’t experienced enough, wasn’t powerful enough. Couldn’t even phantom the scenario to deny the Spiders anything if they demanded it.  _ God dammit, Leorio. _

Pocketing his phone, he set off to the town center as fast as possible. He didn’t want to tip off anybody who could be watching, so he made sure not to look too volatile in the public eye. 

//

Feitan had been the one waiting for him; leaning next to the nearby entrance of a night club. Hands crossed over his chest, nose and mouth pressed into his coat. He did nothing more than raise an eyebrow at the Kurta; a wordless  _ what took you so long?  _ And nothing more. Neither of them bothered with social theatrics, and Feitan began moving immediately after Kurapika’s feet halted in front of him. Their auras intermingled slightly; the Kurta’s hostility and fury bled into Feitan’s deadly apathy. The type that wouldn’t hesitate to kill, but wouldn’t do so unless absolutely provoked.  _ Danchou _ ’s orders, of course.

He escorted the other wordlessly through unnamed alleyways and eventually an entirely broken down part of this city. 

//

Of course they’d be holed up in another shithole. This mirrored Yorkshin City, all those years ago. A time where he was less jaded, and had comrades that forced his hand, made him not throw away his life. 

Sometimes he wondered if he was avenging his clan or merely trying to bury himself with them. 

[ADDITIONAL MEME CONTENT]

Dude, it's funny. I'm probably going to sparsely add these throughout the fanfiction. 


	2. EPISODE II: Begrudging Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. Maybe writing so much in the past two days isn't a healthy idea, but I plan on keeping it up until there's a solid amount to read. Or maybe I'm just trying to outdo my past self.

Time wasn’t really of the essence in these circumstances. This fact alone didn’t magically wipe out Chrollo’s impatience. A man who despised waiting for what he wanted, something obvious at first sight. 

Leorio was in his hands,  _ de facto.  _ Which meant Kurapika had no choice but to come alone, quietly. and without trying to take one more leg from him. Once again, death was imminent, and dying in battle was to be honoured in the Gen’ei Ryodan, though that didn’t take away the dull sting every time he remembered the times which were  _ better, _ but not necessarily because of their past positions, no; they were here with him. 

The taste of bitter bile overflows his mouth the more he thought about it. Irritation, the coal just being struck to light up, burned within him. The atmosphere changed wordlessly, yet the slant of his eyebrow was the only rise his feelings got out of him.

_ Could he really blame the guy, really? It was his fault, after all.  _

__

No matter. He blinked, distracted once again from reading. It was fascinating, and his fingers found comfort in momentarily splaying themselves on each page he finished reading. On guard as always; he listened intently the second the sanding of rubble could be heard. That just meant Feitan and their  _ budding company  _ was finally going to join them. 

The thought of getting the upper hand on the chain user put him back in good spirits, and the corners of his mouth were pulled inwards once again. If he was younger, his face would’ve been split by a shit-eating grin. 

//

The hostility reached him, and everyone else, of course. There wasn’t a neuron in him wherein he  _ didn’t  _ see the blond out for blood. It was especially bad when he assumed Kurapika was a woman. He’d probably smile, eyes pinching with clear amusement, if he didn’t have a name and reputation to uphold. Besides, he had no intentions to piss off his lovely guest any further; inciting Kurapika further was way too dangerous. The guy was too volatile, too ready to die. The tension in his shoulders and the furrow of his eyebrows said as much.

The tilt of his head, and the slight raise of his left eyebrow stood out immediately to the other. His senses were in overdrive, which was fair, but Chrollo hasn’t done much to warrant such a reaction currently (he doesn’t count kidnapping as something serious enough for this).  With his pinky and index finger, he shut the  _ Mairukōran  _ carefully, dislodging his thumb from the middle of the pages first. Kurapika’s eyes slanted directly at the book, then back at Chrollo. He didn’t have to say anything for Chrollo to know he was supposed to obtain the book back (as per his work contract). He could certainly  _ try _ . 

It looked like Kurapika discarded that idea the moment it came to mind, instead stealing a glance in Leorio’s direction, checking to see if he was still alive and in one piece. 

“Unscathed,” rung throughout the open room. He set the book down, draping his other arm over his elbow and burning holes into the last Kurta alive.

“What do you want?”  _ for Leorio _ went unsaid.

“A deal of sorts, using that handy _ Judgment Chain _ of yours,” Chrollo tilted his head just enough to make it obvious that he was pointing at the conjured chains that moved when Kurapika clenched his fist.

Aghast, his lips parted just enough to express how out-of-his-ass and random that proposition was. Why would Chrollo of all people want that  _ again _ ? He continued speaking once he noticed Kurapika had nothing to say in response.

“Your friend over there--” Leorio, slouching against a block of concrete with Machi by his side, hand on her hip and gaze steeled on Kurapika “freed, at the price of your live imprisonment.”

Somewhat surprising, but not out of bounds for danchou, the rest conceded. 

“You’ll be coming with me. Of course, you may set your own condition with that in mind. What do you say?” The lilt in Chrollo’s voice gave away the flowering amusement at Kurapika’s immediate disgust, yet silence. He was intelligent, of course. Knew that an outburst surrounded by the Gen’ei Ryodan could result in death (or at least forceful restraining), and that Leorio was one nen thread away from immediate decapitation. 

His body, now a canvas that displayed his unraveling, moved slowly back to lean against the wall farthest away from Chrollo still face to face. Had Kurapika been given time to process the demand, he would be told to fuck off until the foreseeable future. Now he was in what Chrollo would mockingly call a  _ pickle _ . 

Kurapika could see it now, this dirtbag laughing in his face. It was his fault for not being careful enough, for letting Leorio tag along just this  _ once _ . Just once was enough to fuck everything up. 

He had no choice but to take responsibility. 

Leorio was still alive and well, ever-present in the group, not so much the conversation. That was until he screamed

“Fuck that Kurapika! Don’t do squat for these guys!” 

That earned him a solid hand to the nape of his neck; knocking him out cold yet again. Had someone else dealt with him, he’d probably be in worse shape. Kurapika tried his best to pretend that didn’t happen right before him, fully aware of his position right now.

“What does that entail.”

_ Ice cold, Kurta.  _

Just how he liked pretty things.

“I can’t force someone to join us, as you probably already know. However, I can make you the gracious offer of joining us for an extended period of time. No  _ mortal _ harm done to you from us, although I can’t promise that outside sources won’t do otherwise. This applies vice versa, too.” He narrowed his eyes. 

“How long?” irritation and dread pooled in the last word.

“Three hundred and fifty-five days.” 

Finality rang loudly in his tone which meant Kurapika couldn’t even dream of objecting. Seriousness and (morbid, from his point of view) interest were once again painted on his face. Now, he needed to find a condition that Chrollo could agree to.  _ He _ didn’t have any other choice but to agree to this stupendous bullshit, and he only got the short end of the stick because the Gen’ei Ryodan king of creeps wanted to have fun. Disgust aside, Kurapika was well aware that he was to be used like a pawn in one of Chrollo’s plans. 

Besides the...  _ Suggestion _ of joining them in the first place, was, well.

Kurapika felt like he’d been flung into his worst nightmare. He thought of something; and given the level of preposterous ego Chrollo held, he immediately felt the need to challenge him. Tear him down.

“You’re to never touch Leorio Paladiknight, Gon Freecss, or Killua Zoldyck for the duration of the agreement. And,” inhaling sharply, he knew he couldn’t bargain for more time, “you  _ alone _ must help me find the Scarlet Eyes.” Level-headed, sharp wit and the obvious look on his face made it pretty clear that Kurapika won’t be backing down otherwise. He may be asking for just a little bit more than he was ‘allowed’ to, but at the very least his time wouldn’t all go to shit because of a careless Leorio and his own mistakes.

For a long moment, Chrollo didn’t respond. Tipped his head backwards slightly, the dim light showing off the faint scars littering his jaw and neck, then framing his cheekbone once he was done pondering. 

Then, he stood up, throwing his coat off without saying anything. Vehement vocal judgment would be common by now if his  _ nen _ didn’t pour dangerously from him.  _ Just observe. _ A wordless order. He raised an arm, pinky and ring finger close to his palm. Instead, he motioned with his index and middle finger for the chain user to finally show off his fancy judgement chain. 

“Go for it.” 

The red tinge pooled around the edges of his lenses. He shot his arm out without a second thought, chain at the ready. It only took a second and one sharp kiss of the teeth from Chrollo, and he was done with him. They’d already accepted one another’s conditions, now, all he had to do was chain his own heart. Watched while doing it too, no getting out of this one.

Pointing his own chain towards his heart, he got it over with quickly. 

_ Huh, he actually did it. _ Chrollo was pleasantly satisfied with the results of his biggest heist yet. Well, from a neutral standpoint he kidnapped an adult man. From a thief’s though, he merely used live bait to catch a walking trophy. 

From now on, Chrollo had to be the one walking around with Kurapika, and his first order of business entailed taking care of Leorio Paladiknight. Unfortunately, not in the way he wished. 

It was pretty obvious he repulsed Kurapika (he never cared to hide it), and would have done or said virtually anything else on this godforsaken planet if he had the low-risk chance of making himself scarce. 

//

Shizuku cocked her head in his direction. A wordless  _ danchou _ rang in Chrollo’s ears when their eyes met. Empty of malice or hostility, and filled with mere naive interest in whatever ‘shenanigans her boss got up to now’. He responded with a genuine close-mouthed smile in her direction, the corners of his eyes pinching, assuring her that it wasn’t superficial. She was the last to leave after he’d waved them off wordlessly, knowing they had to wait for his arrival once more before they could speak their mind.

In another life, he’d heed the exasperated look in Machi’s eyes... Highly unlikely though.

Leorio was out cold, body having sagged backwards against the cold stone. If that wasn’t there, his face would have planted itself on the floor. The immaturity in Chrollo would have loved it. Granted, the same immaturity now loathes having to carry Leorio. 

Having untied him, as per Kurapika’s glare, he carefully draped Leorio’s left arm around his neck, arm hoisting him up easily. Kurapika felt obliged to join him anyway, probably to be right there if Chrollo decided to pull some sort of stupid stunt.

_ No worries, dear, I wouldn’t risk death for trash.  _

__

Once they reached the populated part of the city, Chrollo offered hijacking a car to make things easier. Kurapika vocally slapped his hand away from the idea entirely and bit his bottom lip, trying to refrain from losing his marbles again. 

_ Funny. _

//

After checking into the nearest hotel, they took an elevator to the booked room. Kurapika would’ve forced him to wait downstairs (maybe he would’ve stay put if he was still pissy) if he underestimated just how cunning Chrollo was. Oh well, at least Chrollo had the perfect eye for picking out the best of the best. He dropped Leorio on the bed, stepping away and sitting down on a chair placed nearby the window, as far away from the bed as possible. 

Kurapika was all terse muscles and fast, albeit clumsy, movements. He removed Leorio’s blazer and shirt, then set his glasses on the nightstand. Whatever possessions he had were back at the agency. He knew where it was. Pulling the thin blanket over Leorio’s torso, he bit the corner of his bottom lip and shut his eyes. The  _ Judgment Chain  _ eased his conscience just a tad, allowing him to curse the gods for putting him in such an abominable position. He had no choice but to leave Leorio here. 

Looking up from his sleeping friend, and ally...  _ Family. _

_ He couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. _

__

“His mobile phone. Give it to me.” 

Chrollo immediately threw it in his direction at mach speed, indifferent to Kurapika’s tone. Kurapika caught it, naturally. He could handle a little throw. Then, he placed it on the nightstand next to his glasses. 

Chrollo got up, looked over Leorio one last time, and left the suite with hands in his pockets. They already spent way too much time on this guy, it was time to get a move on. 

//

Returning was far easier when he didn’t have to trudge extra weight around. There was a certain spring in his step, just barely there, when he walked with Kurapika behind him. This was good,  _ so good. _ Essentially, he’d gotten the most powerful person who cared enough to hunt them down. Sure, he had to pull some... Unfavourable strings to get him, but it was more than worth it. 

_ Now, he had an entire year to make the other like him.  _

“And find the Scarlet Eyes,” he murmured to himself. If Kurapika heard him, he made no move to show it. Focused solely on getting this entire ordeal over with as fast as possible. Kurapika couldn’t escape for an entire year now. 

//

“Danchou,” Kalluto’s voice rang in the room. It was strange, to see someone so reserved speak up first. 

“Yes?” complacently said; _ ‘make him like you. Take what was broken and mold it into something useful for you. _ ’ 

“What are we going to do next?”

“Regroup the next time you’re ordered to, of course.” Not die while they were split apart.

That conversation ended with a small nod and retreat from Kalluto. After everyone said their goodbyes and dispersed, Nobunaga stayed behind. Chrollo was well aware that he’d been staring daggers at the back of his head anytime Chrollo moved, but chose not to approach him first, standing his ground. Machi watched without interfering.

“ _ Danchou! _ ” 

“Nobunaga.”

“What is the meaning of this?! He killed Uvogin!”

“So he did.”  _ What does that have to do with this? _

“How can you just let him in here?  _ No _ , bring him yourself?” 

It was time he exercised some of that  _ leadership _ . 

“Are you saying you know better than I?” Nobunaga stopped prattling the moment he knew Chrollo wasn’t going to take any more shit from him; any subordinate, for that matter. That’s what he was at the end of the day. He’d spoken too much out of turn, and now his boss’ lowered gaze told him to  _ shut up _ . The node in his throat did it for him anyway, something Chrollo could appreciate. 

A comforting, firm hand landed on his shoulder from Chrollo. Squeezing it, and Chrollo offered a smile that was just as firm and concise.  _ Stop worrying about what I choose to do. _

Seems Machi didn’t step in to cal Nobunaga a fool this time around. 

Kurapika watched them from afar, observing them like wild life. It was strange, seeing these people  _ care _ , or have any feelings that weren’t selfish or murderous. They chose to kill his people anyway, and probably enjoyed doing it. For what? For colourful eyes. 

_ You spare mercy for a killer, but not for the people he killed?  _

__

The head itself was capable of giving a flying fuck about other people too, which he was now stuck with. In close proximity, always, for the next year. A living Hell. 

Kurapika watched Chrollo send Machi off too after some unehard words, remaining on guard. He couldn’t trust Chrollo; capable of all the grandiose shit-feeding through his charisma and quick wit, he could’ve planned something to fuck Kurapika over even more by now. He took the time to send Leorio a text message giving him a few essential details alone, putting him in charge of quitting for Kurapika the next day. 

Chrollo turned to face Kurapika, a face with no hostility or thoughtfulness. Completely neutral. 

“Is there anything you need to go get?” 

“Of course, I didn’t expect to get chained to you for an entire year,” Kurapika spat in retort. Anger never left this guy, it seems. That’s what made Kurapika so amusing to Chrollo although he was far more worried about Kurapika drowning himself in it without noticing. This would’ve all been for naught if he couldn’t take care of himself. 

“Life is often unpredictable.”

Kurapika ignored him and set off to get his things. He was aware he’d have to get out of this region as soon as possible since whatever Hell awaited Chrollo was his too.

//

Chrollo chose to wait outside the hotel Kurapika needed to check out of. He’d already been bored to death by these shenanigans, and wanted to get this over as quickly as possible so they could set off to his next destination:  _ Heaven’s Arena. _ The place was good fun. More importantly, however, it was an interesting way to see what Kurapika’s strength was like when he wasn’t tailing Spiders. To his knowledge, it was tailored specifically to hunt the  _ Gen’ei Ryodan _ down which meant he was strongest when fighting one of his own. Heaven’s Arena wasn’t far off, Chrollo would love nothing more than to stow away on the best quality train and set off towards it, with the exception that now he had a  _ goody two shoes _ among his ranks, and he bound him by the hip. 

He walked to the train station once Kurapika got out, and gestured towards the entrance.

“I assume we’re going to do this your way?” raising an eyebrow. The silent  _ ‘you’re going to ruin my plans,’ _ came after he let his eyebrow fall back down, expressing his discontent. 

“ _ My _ way?” Kurapika inhaled. How fucking indignant. Chrollo was a thief first and foremost, no matter whatever it was, it seems. 

Kurapika didn’t know why he thought otherwise. His response stirred an array of emotions: the main one was ‘ _ I want to punch this guy into the stratosphere, _ ’ and ‘ _ fine, see if I care! _ ’ 

Instead, he huffed. 

“Where to?” 

Chrollo looked at the oncoming trains having taken a step back to do so. 

“The first one.” 

Kurapika unfortunately had to turn his back to buy two tickets. He was going to do this the proper way even if it bit him in the ass. Well, it did kind of bite him in the ass. Not even two minutes later, Chrollo was already gone: as if he became one with the wind, as if he was never there at all. 

_ Whatever _ .

Had he gone too far, Kurapika would feel it, so when he got on the train towards the other edge of Padokea, he settled on the fact that Chrollo boarded without buying a ticket after all. Hopefully nobody lost their life to a train ticket. 

Kurapika found an empty cabin, sat by the window, and waited. His nen lingered around the area well enough; the king of thieves should have no issue finding him. Honestly, he’d rather Chrollo kept his distance unless absolutely necessary in the first place. He bit down on his tongue a little bit too hard, only noticed when he drew a bit of blood.  _ Damn it.  _ At least now, Chrollo was on a forceful path of repentance. 

_ Could he really call this repenting, though? No, it wasn’t repenting unless he died. _

_Dragged to Hell, cold steel on neck. _

__

The gods never listened to him. One moment, the seat beside him was empty, the next it was occupied. All it took was looking out the window just a bit; and the cockroach that was Chrollo Lucilfer came crawling out of the wood works. His torso caved in with a silent heavy sigh, blinking hard enough he saw stars, leaning towards the window. The urge to cave Chrollo’s skull in was huge.

It amplified when Chrollo offered him a powdered pastry, presumably one he swiped on his way here. 

“Here,” he offered it to him, holding it up with his thumb, middle finger and index, trying not to dirty his hands if he could help it. 

Kurapika stared at him, then tried to stare through him. Palm pressed against his cheek, he eyed it suspiciously. Chrollo got ahold of his free hand. Kurapika pulled away on instinct, but Chrollo caught his wrist. He was one impulse away from breaking his wrist like old, dried plastic. Then, he gingerly placed the pastry in his hand. 

Kurapika would’ve thrown it at his face but he figured the gluttonous bastard would be nothing short of grateful, maybe even find amusement in his semi-violent pastry outburst. 

So, he ate it while looking away from Chrollo. The reaction satisfied him since he didn’t say anything else.

...

“Where are we going?” broke the silence. 

Chrollo promptly shut the  _ Mairukōran  _ after Kurapika made the interest in conversation prominent. 

“Heaven’s Arena,” curt and to the point. Where did Kurapika hear that name? Faintly, Gon’s face flashed in his mind’s eye, not a place where you could find a treasury, then. 

“Sounds like the place for fool’s gold, nothing  _ worthy _ of your grimy hands.” If he didn’t think he was beneath it, Kurapika would do nothing but scoff anytime Chrollo said something. 

“Correct! That’s not what we’re going there for.” 

Would asking give him more vague retorts, or some valuable information? Kurapika shook his head. 

Guess he’ll find out what it really is when they get there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know if you see an oopsie.


	3. EPISODE III: Volatile Fray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My editor is ass-deep in this fanfiction, so I've elected to add him as a co-creator, say hello.

Before they got off the train, Chrollo wrapped a gauze around his forehead. Reminiscent of what he’s done in the past; to keep his identity more or less on the down low. He had no interest in being discovered; knowing full well that Heaven’s Arena was crawling with all sorts of low-lives, not to forget, powerful men.

_ Not more powerful than him though, that’s for sure. _

On their way there, Kurapika watched his new companion casually take hold of a coat, walking next to the terrace of a cafe. Without even looking; Chrollo effortlessly slid the coat off. He didn’t think the head of the Gen’ei Ryodan had this little self-respect. Lacking shame. Why was he surprised, again?

In the moment it took to pass the guy, he spared the back of his head a solemn look. It wasn’t like he  _ died  _ anyway. That was probably  _ his  _ logic.

This was a waste of time.

...

Heaven’s Arena was a tower, from what Kurapika could gather. Elongated, fittingly towering (as its name prescribed) over the vicinity. Hell, he could’ve seen this from the other side of the city. Why didn’t he just point and show when they first saw it? Oh right. Elusive, vague asshole. Elusive vague asshole who killed his family to ‘admire,’ then pawn off the remnants, which he now had to hunt down so he could bury with them.  _ Of course company like this wouldn’t hesitate to aid. _

“People come to fight here. Two hundred and fifty floors full of it,” arm extended out towards the entrance, as some sort of presentation.

“Is this where you pick off victims when none come to you?”

“ _ Heavens no. _ Nobody dies here,” which made fighting harder in his opinion. He was going to be fine, for the most part. All he had to do was make sure he isn’t backed down into to a corner where he has no other choice but to use  _ Bandit’s Secret, _ which won’t happen in Heaven’s Arena with no opponent but... Nevermind. Bad train of thought.

Kurapika didn’t bother asking him why they were here. The answer would’ve been vague and obvious.  _ To fight, of course. _ Or something equally as asinine and stupid. Chrollo knew exactly what Kurapika meant in both body and mind but chose to fuck with him as a fun pass-time. Seeing no further complaints from him, Chrollo led the way. It looked like there was a registration booth on one side, and a long hallway with parallel rooms on the other.

Chrollo made his way towards the booth, looking for Kurapika once he got there. Kurapika watched him; he furrowed his eyebrows.

_ Well, are you coming or not? _

Oh, Kurapika was coming alright, his hand tightened into a fist as he reached the booth, watching Chrollo fill in a registration sheet. Kurapika started thinking of ways to fight him one on one, this was a good place to do it,  _ but. _ They’d probably both die if he incited it.

This was frustrating. He couldn’t even remove half of the guy’s teeth for an entire year. No punch, nothing.

_ ‘The things you make me do, Leorio.’ _

“Good warm ups never hurt anybody.”

Back at it again with his pathetic attempts of kindling a friendship.  _ As if. _

“Plus, training is good. I need to know where you stand,” he continued. This meant that Chrollo was fully aware of the time and devotion he threw in his direction, just to get the ability to beat the shit out of him.

All rendered to nothing in an instant.

In Chrollo’s opinion, going to those lengths was flattering (and unnerving). Sadly for him, they’d be traveling together, so it only made sense to try to test his wits and body in a place where death had no place. It’s not like he’d hesitate if the (beloved) chain user’s life was in danger though; their agreement said nothing about Kurapika dying on his own. However, his death coming so soon would have resulted in wasted time on Chrollo’s end.

Kurapika signed up wordlessly and waited for Chrollo to lead the way. It was strange, getting to know what the head of the Gen'ei Ryodan was getting up to in his free time when he *wasn't* slaughtering people or taking what he had no right to take , and then pawn off in the underworld . Playing mind games with Kurapika, seemingly. 

He couldn't pretend he wasn't interested in the other's plans though, he heard this place was pretty good in terms of fighting and experience. He also denounced the idea that it was a *real* fighting experience since the possibility of  his death wasn't even in the program. A simulation, then. It gave him more leverage to see Chrollo in action, get a feel for the way he fought so he could be prepared when the time to *purge* this fucker off the planet came.

“Ah, Chrollo Lucilfer sir! Would you like to fight the floor master on floor two hundred and fifty now?”

Chrollo could see Kurapika in his peripheral vision. 

“No, thank you. I'll start on the first floor.” He spared the attendee a curt smile and let her move on to Kurapika, watching her explain how things worked for the most part.

*It all goes to shit two hundred and up. Kurapika should be fine; he defeated Uvogin.*

That was something he shouldn't forget. Someone who runs on nothing but rage and the need to desecrate *his* corpse specifically shouldn't be underestimated. The docile manner Kurapika displayed now kept melting away his ice cold concerns. Chrollo valued his life.

For a moment, he slanted his eyes while watching the back of Kurapika's head, atmosphere changing long enough for him to notice things just got serious. *Finally*. 

If Chrollo stopped trying to be buddy buddy with him, or better yet, stopped breathing entirely. It would save a lot of energy.

Alas, there was no such thing as mercy from a murderous thief. What's worse is the fact that he was from *Meteor City.* Some people called it *No Man's Land,* and they would be right. Only the toughest and poorest of the poor survived there. They had no other choice. The Mafia backed off immediately when they found out the *Gen'ei Ryodan* was spawned there. Just another rung to their terrifying reputation.

Chrollo led the way.

...

The waiting room was cramped. They filed a request to fight on the same day. Chrollo offhandedly mentioned something about ‘wanting to see how far he could get in a day,’ further rubbing salt in the wound. He knew Chrollo was waiting for him, not the other way around.  _ He didn't have to do that, _ which meant he had ulterior motives, when he stuck to Kurapika like birch tar.

Chrollo took the lead once again, making his way towards the main ring on the first floor, ticket in hand. He looked less excited to be here than he sounded; given the slouched shoulders, hands in pockets and lack of attention he offered their surroundings. He found a good seat, three rows up from the ring, and waved Kurapika over. Gods, he wishes he could pretend Chrollo wasn't embarrassingly waving him over like he just saw his lover returning from the bathroom.

Kurapika left an empty seat of distance between them, then waited for his name to be called on the speaker. 

“Number 567, Kurapika Kurta!” the rest was blurred out afterwards. He paid no mind to any other information, knowing where he needed to go already. Chrollo didn't move in acknowledgment.  Just waited for Kurapika to get this over with as quickly as possible.

His opponent wasn't anything special; just a low level grunt with muscle and nothing else. Right after the referee was done speaking, his opponent plummeted outside the ring. A strong palm to the chest was enough; using nen was dangerous, unnecessary too. Chrollo watched the pitiful match out of respect for Kurapika and nothing else. Personally, he wouldn't call it a match. Something more akin to a rapid culling, maybe. 

Kurapika ascended to the 50th floor without looking back.

Chrollo soon joined him. The referee originally recommended him to the 100th, but his plans didn't entail leaving the Kurta in the dust. 

*What really mattered was getting to the 200's anyway.* 

By the time he got out of the elevator, Kurapika was already waiting for another match. He expected nothing less. In rare instances, one's feelings on their sleeve made them predictable; not that it outweighed the volatile nature of someone like Kurapika. 

The Kurta looked over him then returned his gaze towards the TV mounted on the ceiling; absorbing whatever fight was playing on it.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Chrollo put in the necessary effort to win the match, and Kurapika tried not to kill anyone with his nen. At the end of the day, Chrollo chose to tail Kurapika. 

He wondered if the top of this building was fixed or not by now; certainly looked that way on the outside. Nostalgia hit him when he thought of fighting  _ the _ clown at the top. Something he'd tell Kurapika about in another life. Or the future. 

The elevator dinged, and Kurapika stepped out first. 

The 100th floor. That was fast enough. Now, things would get interesting.

“Combatants on the 100th floor going up get their own private room.”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah, we just have to register for a fight sometime in the future at the booth and get a key.” 

A nod of affirmation came from Kurapika, who still wasn't sure what the fuck he was doing at Heaven's Arena in the first place.

The receptionist told them where the rooms were. Kurapika doubted wholeheartedly that he would have to spend a lot of time here, factoring in their current progress speed. After this, he would be sure to resume his hunt for the Scarlet Eyes.

The passage of time didn't wear down his supply of determination, and being forced to hang out with Chrollo fuelled it sprightly, so it was only a matter of time before he grew impatient and snapped. It should be considerably easier to find them with the very man who gave them away.

Their rooms were next to one another. Chrollo entered his own with an innocent wave and goodbye, Kurapika didn't spare him the same diplomatic grace. He left his belongings in his room, keeping all the Jenny he won today and venturing out to find some food. The arena had its own restaurants and shops, which meant he had no reason to leave the premises.

Kurapika didn't care enough to invite Chrollo. The guy didn't bother following him either.

//

While Kurapika went off to do fuck knows  _ what _ , Chrollo spent his evening trying to pocket some more spare change; the reward money meant so little to him. Alas, it never hurt to do things he enjoyed  _ and _ gain a little something on the side. He bought a can of soda after registering for another match. He had nothing better to do trying to power through everything _ without  _ leaving Kurapika behind, so why not? 

_ Maybe he could have tested his strength some other way.  _

On second thought, probably not. He couldn’t fight Kurapika on his own lest he wished to fucking  _ die,  _ and the Gen’ei Ryodan was out of the queston too. His next best shot would have been to hire someone. All in all, this was the most practical option. A tad boring, sure, but they had to make due.

By the time Kurapika made it back to the 100th floor, Chrollo had knocked out enough opponents to reach the end of the number set. Chrollo didn't tell him; he just had the luck of seeing him in passing, on a TV, while going back to his room for the night.

_ Show off. _

//

The next day, Chrollo was the first to get up,and it became obvious by his incessant, rhythmic knocking on Kurapika's door. Just to annoy him. Chrollo Lucilfer existed just to piss him off. A universe-given gift from the  _ fucking _ Heavens, he was.

The knocking drove him insane. Disheveled, he shot up from his bed, abruptly opening the door. A resounding “ _ what _ ?!” echoed through out the entire hall.

“Figured you'd care to know that you were finally paired up with a... Worthy? Maybe not. Half worthy, perhaps,  _ fighter _ .”

“What's so utterly urgent about that? What exactly made you think that's worth bothering me!?” feisty as always.

“I don't know. Maybe you wanted time to prepare? Certainly sounds like something someone as uptight as you would do.”

Kurapika slammed the door in his face.

_ Chrollo was bored and trying to incite a reaction. That's all _ . He got what he wanted too, since anger came first, thought second with Kurapika. He wasn't wound up like this all the time; it was just hard to relax while being metaphorically shackled to a fucking  _ Spider _ .

Kurapika turned, making a bee-line for the shower. Right now, the world revolved around this suite alone, Chrollo be damned if he won’t enjoy a little bit of peace and quiet once a day. 

The bathroom was spacious, simple yet held whatever utilities one would desire. Certainly nothing  _ regal,  _ but he never demanded such a thing. His upbringing was modest, that he was (somewhat) proud of. He was given only what he needed growing up, not that he was any less grateful.

His mood fell back into Hell, memories of holding his fallen brethren flooded him. It reminded him of a stone falling down onto the ocean floor, disturbing the sand at the bottom; in this case, the sand symbolised bittersweet memories he once shared with Pairo. Good times, tainted by the greed of others and bloodshed. 

This was no time to reminisce. 

His T-shirt was the first to go, discarded on the floor. Successively, the rest of his clothes met the same fate. He set the water’s temperature afterwards, and enjoyed his shower void of negative emotions and overthinking. 

//

The second time his suite room was opened, it was done so from a Kurapika who was ready for the day. Well, a haphazard, drowsy version of him. _ Now, what to do? _

Ah, he remembered a vending machine he passed by last night after dinner. Water and breakfast sandwiches. Good enough.

His feet took him to it without thinking. He watched the coin slot engulf the spare change,The machine then spitting out a sandwich and some water. He wouldn’t let a bad start ruin the rest of his day, especially now that his only two options were to be optimistic or lose his marbles (because of Chrollo). He sat on a nearby bench and ate his tuna sandwich, opting for the former.

Until he felt a strong pair of eyes on him, coupled with leftover traces of  _ nen _ . Well no matter, if they needed to be cautious, they would have been from the beginning.

“Good morning,  _ princess _ . How was your beauty sleep?” Kurapika didn’t spare him a look. 

“Would have been perfect without breathing the same air as you. Same goes for right now, actually.”

“ _ Oh, you wound me so _ .” Kurapika imagined Chrollo to be gripping his shirt, faking an expression filled with pain like the dramatic diva he was. 

“Did they announce at what time it’ll take place?” 

Chrollo responded after biting into his ham sandwich, stealing another glance in his direction. The chain user didn’t bother turning his head. The floor was far better to look at to him.

Chrollo hummed. 

“This afternoon, two thirty. Try not to kill the guy; unless you have an interest in making a reputation for yourself in my field.” How mocking. He spoke to Kurapika as if he was the one who  _ willingly  _ joined Chrollo. Had he, that would say a lot about who he was as a person. This was an indirect, succinct insult. 

Kurapika’s anger simmered for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is always appreciated.


	4. EPISODE IV: Volatile Fray (Recommenced)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello CarbonCock. Thank you for editing everything. :)
> 
> Oh right, I added some more dialogue for ~interpersonal development~ or something. Enjoy.

After that, Chrollo made himself scarce. He came without warning, and left that way. Once he was gone, the tension in Kurapika’s shoulders dissipated; Chrollo knew he overstayed his welcome. He silently thanked whatever God that eavesdropped on them for this blessing. 

Finishing his sandwich after that was a pleasant experience. His thoughts kept him occupied, along with the loud crowds of people talking about interesting upcoming fights: naturally, it reached his ears too, given his proximity.

“... One of the guys who blew the top floors off is going to be fighting this afternoon.”

“I heard! So many people are gathering to bet on him.”

“Yeah… I heard one of Grant’s goons plans on betting 100,000,000 Jenny that he’ll win.”

“Makes sense. He did defeat Hisoka… Kind of. Well, I heard he got him after all, but that’s all hearsay.” 

_ Is that the guy he’s supposed to fight?  _

Hisoka was someone he wished to never see again, so this conversation unnerved him. Someone stronger than Hisoka? He gripped the water bottle a tad too hard for his liking, he wasn't going to throw another fit, but he still managed to attract unwanted attention. Winning was going to be tricky, to say the least. Chrollo should have given him more details about this. Then again… He would’ve told Chrollo to eat shit and die if he  _ did  _ offer. Should he look for him? 

No, that was a waste of time. He could just ask around.

…

Asking around didn’t do much. Most people that came only  _ heard  _ about the past fight, and many didn’t have much to say about his fighting style or appearance. Kurapika didn’t know what he was expecting honestly; these were just regular people betting on who would win in a fight. Gambling away their money on men who fought for a percentage of said money. This was chump change for both of them, given their status (one Pro Hunter, the other a well-known massacrer, thief of  _ ‘only the best _ ’), so the only valuable thing he could earn here was proper fighting experience.

Maybe it wasn’t that big of a waste of time after all; with this new opponent of his. Someone so seemingly tough will definitely aid in his advancement, although hopefully not kill him in the process. Of all the places he thought he would die, a fighting arena was not one of them.

The best he could do now was waste his time and warm up a little before the fight.

//

Ten minutes before the fight, the audience (gamblers included) crowded the room. He was already in the ring before them. Rolling a shoulder back, he felt a satisfying pop; that relieved some tension. Given the other's reputation, he would need to use  _ nen _ if he wanted to stay on this floor. Then again, according to Chrollo, it wouldn't be a monumental loss.

You see, the prior night he struck up another conversation around the Arena. Turns out, he would only lose his private room if he went back to the 90's and below. That was a relief.

Still, he couldn't help but worry about his opponent's status. Surely, if he killed someone here, he wouldn't be allowed back, right? That was the rational approach, sure, but these people fought one another for money. Putting their lives on the line for such a frivolous thing. The only way he would be finding out is by showing up this afternoon.

…

One minute before the fight, the referee moved into position. The grating voice of an attendee rang above him through the speakers.

_ "Goooooood afternoon everybody! Today's opponents have made a pretty reputation for themselves. The up and coming Kurapika Kurta, and the well-known  _ **_Chrollo Lucilfer_ ** _ will surely provide a spectacular fight! Don't forget to place your bets, this is the last chance you have to do so!"  _

Her voice was the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard for Kurapika, and what was even worse was—

_ "What the absolute fuck,"  _ Kurapika uttered with the last of his breath. His throat closed up. 

_ That asshole led him on just for this?  _ Chrollo must love the look on his face right now. 

Teeth clenched together, eyes flashing red for a split second. His eyebrows scrunched to the center of his face; he  _ couldn't _ do anything. Should he just walk off the ring? Did Chrollo set this up just to make a spectacle of him? 

_ Wait, he killed Hisoka? _

So many fucking questions. 

Chrollo made his way into the ring, gauze around his forehead coupled with a set of clothes he  _ definitely _ didn't buy himself. A plain shirt and black trousers, and the best accessory of them all: a smug look on his face directed at yours truly. 

“If you take damage from me, you'll die. So, instead, how about you try to catch me for ten minutes? No _Gen'ei Ryodan_ _nen,_ how about it?” 

“Fine. You forfeit afterwards.” Kurapika seemed pretty sure of himself; with his demanding tone. 

_ “Ready… Set, fight!”  _

Kurapika charged right at him without thinking twice. Chrollo stood at the edge of the ring, unmoving. Kurapika was sure he had him; all he had to do was  _ push  _ him out of the ring, onto the ground. Once he did, he could secure a  _ down _ and one point in his favour. Chrollo saw through that plan and disappeared the moment Kurapika would make initial contact. an eloquent dodge. He teleported directly behind him. 

Then, Chrollo pushed Kurapika off of the ring with enough force to make him topple on the floor, but his application of  _ ken _ left him unscathed. 

Kurapika’s  _ Judgment Chain  _ squeezed around his heart for a split second; a forewarning. He got back up, brushing himself off while the referee screamed out ‘ _ down; one point for Chrollo!’ _ .

Kurapika retaliated by coating his elbow in more  _ ken _ and aiming right for his abdomen; not that Chrollo gave him the chance to land a blow in retaliation. He was fast and quick to act, Chrollo gave him that. Kurapika didn’t hesitate to attack again, the best he could do now is keep trying to touch him. despite his bigger goal of ‘winning the match fairly;’ simply playing cat and mouse with Chrollo for the  _ mere _ chance to  _ touch _ him was preposterous. That was impossible without his nen technique. 

Using his nen technique would, once again, spell death for both of them. 

He could feel the other’s blood boiling; angry that he couldn’t beat the shit out of Chrollo, who immediately put some distance between them by jumping to the other edge of the ring.

_ Completely fair feeling. _

  
  


Chrollo watched Kurapika intently, having moved into a defensive stance. Head tilted down, eyes barely visible from the other’s point of view. One of his feet was bent forward, the other remained in the same place, arms up just enough. He saw the way Kurapika clenched his teeth, and how he bit the inside of his cheek while thinking of a plan to trap him.

Unfortunately for his protégé, Chrollo had him beat in experience. Without his chains, he was nothing but a small fry. 

Kurapika also knew this.

He headed towards him anyway. 

…

Attack, get knocked out, an added-on point for Chrollo, repeat. That's pretty much how it went the entire match, both of them too prideful to admit defeat. Chrollo felt the need to show the power gap between them. To Prove a point. Show Kurapika what he really was to opponents that were on his level; opponents he couldn’t defeat with even his most powerful chain. He wasn’t quite sure if Kurapika got it, though. 

Kurapika was the type to let his feelings cloud his judgment and solemnly slowed down to think for himself, doing so only when other people’s lives came into play. Just another example of how little of a fuck he gave about himself. By the end of the match, he was sweaty and pissed, with only a wounded pride to show for his effort.. Chrollo barely broke a sweat, having just dodged Kurapika’s agressions for the most part and watching him trudge back pathetically after kicking him out of the ring each time.

Chrollo left the ring first, presumably collecting the prize money and ascending to the 200’; Leaving Kurapika in the dust once again.

//

Kurapika registered for another match almost immediately, winning it and keeping his private room. 

Throughout the day, he registered for as many fights as possible; making it to floor 170 by evening. He got his anger out through them. Since he couldn’t beat the shit out of his object of hatred, he settled for the next best thing; advancing. 

He went back to his room after getting his last check, wearily. He just wished things would be over already. He was tired: planning to shower and book it to bed immediately. He made a beeline for his door, walked in, locked it, and sauntered past Chrollo to the bathroom.

Wait a minute.  _ Past Chrollo? Huh!? _

Kurapika snatched a cushion from the love seat and threw it directly at his face. It bounced off of Chrollo’s forearm instead, having immediately sensed something being hurled at him . He was drowsy, half-awake on Kurapika’s bed. Gauze off, shoes kicked off, and shirtless. 

“Welcome back to the base,” voice hoarse with sleep. 

“ _ What  _ are  _ you  _ doing here?” 

Chrollo raised his torso using his elbows, propping himself up on them. Eyes half open, he hummed a little before shrugging. 

“Figured you’d want some advice from the guy who beat you.”

“Oh, you mean the one you  _ told me to watch out for? _ That was so nice of you, by the way.  _ Thank you. _ ” Kurapika spat out the last statement with pure malice; giving up on the idea that he could hide his contempt from Chrollo.

“Of course. What are allies for otherwise?” he said mockingly in response.

“I have nothing to learn from the likes of you.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.”

“Begging as we speak. Perhaps you need me to bark, too? How about drool all over your sheets?”

Kurapika slanted his eyes.

“ _ Anyway.  _ Do you see the point in coming here now?” 

While Chrollo spoke, he picked up the cushion, and placed it back on the loveseat, sprawling his legs after sitting down. He knew what Chrollo was getting at, choosing not to respond since the answer was obvious. 

“Did you really fuck up the top of this building?” Sudden.

“Yeah. It was kind of a pain in the ass, honestly. It was a death match.”  _ With the clown.  _

“From the 200’s and up, you fight for ‘glory’ or some shit like that. In other words, you don’t get paid. You have to register at least once every ninety days, and it’s a nen-only zone. Figured it would be the perfect place for you to refine your powers against anyone that  _ isn’t _ me.” 

Kurapika scoffed. 

“ _ Or _ we could go do whatever you want instead,” Chrollo shrugged again, this time throwing a hand movement in there. “We have all the time in the world, presumably until I inevitably see another  _ Zoldyck  _ try to go for my throat.”

Then, Kurapika briefly remembered Killua’s family being contracted to slaughter Chrollo. 

“Is that a recurring theme?” 

“Something of the sort.” 

“Why?”

“Just happens. They’re a pain in the ass, for money. I assume their pride must be insanely wounded now that I have two of their own on my side. The young, white-haired one on yours, I presume. Silva must be  _ so  _ tilted.” 

Why was this a good thing anyway? 

“Illumi is elusive, though. Volatile, extreme, works for his own needs and, in the past, the approval of his father alone. No telling when he’ll jump off the deep end.” Chrollo looked lost in thought.

Once again,  _ it was strange.  _ Watching Chrollo chat about the group members as if they were from some (slice of life, tragic) TV series, talking about wacky interpersonal relationships the members had with one another. Hell, he was waiting for Chrollo to start rambling about a love triangle. What was even more bizarre was  _ Chrollo just laying there haphazardly telling him this shit.  _

“My friends… No, family. They aren’t a band of freaks, capable of backstabbing one another, so I’m  _ afraid  _ I can’t relate.” 

The sun finally set, prompting Kurapika to turn the lamp on. The light outlined his features, and revealed the sharpened lines of Chrollo's torso. His eyes highlighted by a trace that softened when it graced his right cheek. His hands were knotted into the back of his hair now, keeping his head in place. 

“Family, huh? No clue what that’s like. Then again, others are unfortunate enough not to know where they were born, and thus have no home. So I suppose I’m a little grateful.” 

“Meteor City, right?”

“Mhm.” He raised an eyebrow, hair splayed in such a way that it left the eyebrow barely visible.

“Is that really a place worthy of calling home?”

“Depends on who you ask. Personally, I think you don’t get to choose your home, shit as it may be.” 

“I guess… I had a home.” Kurapika narrowed his eyes; Chrollo paid him no mind. Both of them knew exactly what he was referencing, and Chrollo wasn’t in the mood to go on a tangent about how he  _ just had to have those eyes,  _ or try to delude both him and Kurapika into thinking he was a better man. He wasn’t, and will never be.

“You ought to call your friends, supposing you’re as close as you say you are.”  _ They’re probably worried  _ went unsaid. Kurapika nodded, then stood up.

“Get out.  _ Begone.  _ I need to shower, and we’ve breathed enough of the same air for a day.” 

Chrollo hoisted himself up overdramatically, slipping back into his black shoes and gathering his shirt in one hand, pulling his coat on instead. 

“I’ll be back later.” Now pretending to be deaf, disregarding Kurapika’s last statement entirely. 

Chrollo left with disheveled hair and a good mood. 

//

The shower did him  _ so much _ Good. By the time he got out, he was all jelly limbs and overtaken by drowsiness, the amalgamated steam in the bathroom having clouded his thoughts as a whole. The mattress dipped suddenly with his weight. Hmm…

Smelled like strong cologne. The overpriced kind rich people buy, to push forward the agenda that they had more money than other rich people.  _ Something like that.  _ No sign of sweat, which was nice of Chrollo. At the very least, his bed didn’t smell like hot garbage because a scoundrel decided to book it for a couple of hours. The scent of mint hit his nose, having been pressed into the sheets. Chrollo must have used the complimentary generic shampoo.

All in all, Kurapika was finally enjoying himself, having accomplished something today, and now able to rest. Sleep swiftly took over him.

…

Chrollo was back on his bullshit not even an hour after leaving. Of course he was, he might as well enjoy the time he has with the lovely chain user.

Enough time passed for Kurapika to shower, and subsequently run a low risk of catching him naked (impolite), so he walked in without making a sound. Honestly, Kurapika should learn how to lock his door. He took his shoes off, leaving them by the front door, and looked towards the bathroom; opened. Then, the bed.  _ Aha.  _

Kurapika lay on top of the covers, plain T-shirt and black sweatpants on. 

Chrollo gingerly placed his Saint Peter’s coat over Kurapika, making himself comfortable on the loveseat, lamp still on. Chrollo cracked open  _ Before They Are Hanged _ , electing to sit and wait. It was only eight; he could spare a couple of hours to let Kurapika catch up on some beauty sleep. 

… 

The next time Kurapika came to, it was because he felt his stomach eroding. His tongue, heavy with sleep, garbled whatever he was muttering to himself. He groggily got up, feeling the cover slip off him as he did. He grabbed it instinctively, repulsed by the sudden realization of fur in his grasp..  _ Definitely not a cover.  _

He blinked a couple of times, trying to make his eyes feel less glassy.  _ Chrollo’s coat. Where’s the owner?  _ His head darted upwards, meeting the top of Chrollo’s head while he looked peered over his book instead.

“Didn’t even have to wake you,” barely audible.

Kurapika’s hold tightened onto the coat, too tired to start hurling threats and insults at Chrollo.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go get something to eat,” he mumbled. Chrollo raised his head, a few strands of hair decorating his forehead, he raised an eyebrow. 

“Just tell me what you want. I’ll go get it for you.”

“That doesn’t really make up for the… Watching me while I sleep, creep.”

Chrollo’s face contorted just slightly, raising his book in response.

“You knew I was coming back. Had you stayed up, maybe you wouldn’t be feeling  _ oh so violated _ right now.” 

“Go find actual food,” Kurapika waved him off, watching Chrollo shut his book and leave it next to the lamp, glancing at his coat. 

_ He didn’t need it.  _ So he left with his sleeveless shirt alone. 

//

Chrollo came back with some Japponese takeaway. From what he gathered, it wasn’t too bad; he had Japponese food before; it tasted pretty good. If Kurapika complains, he’ll just tell him to shut up and eat it.

He left the lights off out of courtesy, and alerted Kurapika of his presence with a little poke.. 

Out of reflex, Kurapika punched him. 

_ Jesus Christ.  _

They were still alive, so involuntary harm didn’t count, at least. He’d woken up by now, clearly unapologetic that his punch sent Chrollo’s jaw halfway to Hell, preferring instead to push the coat off of him so as to not sully it. Holding out an expectant hand, he waited for Chrollo to fork over his dinner. Chrollo fished it out of the bag, dropping it on his lap. Then, returned to his original seat. 

In the takeout box, there were some entrees, rice and sushi, and a couple of unidentifiable sauces.

They ate in silence. 

… 

“So I’m supposed to get stronger, right.” 

“Yup.” 

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for you yourself to aid in that?”

“ _ Wouldn’t that be lovely? _ ” Chrollo mocked. _ ‘The Judgement Chain is the entire reason you don’t think I’m going to kill you in your sleep. That’s the only thing keeping us together right now, too. It’s not like I don’t want to,’  _ he mostly spoke to himself after that, although Kurapika managed to make out the gift of his quiet ramblings. 

“After this, what?”

“Dunno, whatever you wish to do.” He dipped his last piece of sushi into some soy sauce.

“I see.” 

The end of their meal was spent in silence once again. Kurapika took the time to leer Chrollo when he thought he wasn’t looking, as some sort of payback. Once Kurapika was done, Chrollo stood up and threw their containers away. Chrollo glanced at Kurapika.

“Go back to sleep.” 

He turned the lamp off, book in hand, noticing Kurapikas exhausted expression in passing, looking back at him.. Instead of speaking, he chose to hold up Chrollo’s coat as some sort of silent ‘thank you’. He accepted his dearly departed garment, and returned to his room.

_ God, he was tired.  _


	5. EPISODE V: Grounding Aid

By the time morning came, Kurapika already knew what he was going to do. Go through with as many matches as he could. If  _ that asshole _ knew better about anything, it was how to get stronger. He changed and began his day. 

Kurapika's point of view was pretty uneventful today.

//

Now then. 

What was Chrollo doing again? His mind froze momentarily, body with it. Oh right! He was swiping something from the vending machine on the bottom floor; wanted to see if he could without damaging the inanimate thing. Could he? Not really, he had to bend the metal on the third row going down to get to one of the snack bars he wanted. 

This was a stupid affair. He did it impulsively, just to see if he could  _ and _ if he would get caught. Thankfully, he didn't spend more than five seconds on the…  _ Interesting pastime _ . 

What to do now?  _ Not much around here. _ His only objective was to get Kurapika some consistent fighting experience while also attempting to make the Kurta like him. Or at least put up with him. Speaking of Kurapika, it was probably a bad idea not to check in on him.

It was well into the afternoon, so he should be awake by now. Chrollo traced the leftover nen Kurapika left on the upper echelon of the Arena.  _ There it was.  _

//

Kurapika busied himself with  _ a single _ fight today, his plans having strayed from constant combat to refining his  _ nen _ . Chrollo was right when he said that Kurapika could only face the  _ Gen’ei Ryodan _ when it came to strong opponents, which made him seethe with anger, wishing he wasn’t right. 

His first order of business, maintaining  _ ten  _ for a considerable amount of time. Using  _ Emperor Time  _ for the remainder of his life would lead to serious repercussions. As much as he felt like he wanted to die sometimes, the thought of death chilled his bones and made his hair stand up, even in the aftermath of his adrenaline addled fury. 

He felt a pair of eyes on him after ten minutes of standing in the same place.

“Training, huh? You could have done this in your room, so I’m assuming you just didn’t have the patience to get there.” 

Kurapika only acknowledged his existence with a mere side eye, turning his head to look in front of himself again afterwards. He neither confirmed nor denied Chrollo’s claims; he knew any little thing would give him away.. If Chrollo thought he was fucking up. he wouldn’t spare Kurapika the silence; preferring to pester the perfectionist instead. Just another way to impose his superiority over his apprentice, or that’s how he saw it. Chrollo never actually mentioned if he was above or beneath him., just that he was  _ far stronger _ in the fighting field. 

“How long can you hold it for?” Kurapika asked, referring to  _ ten.  _

“Hmm… Last I bothered remembering, I lost count after the seven hour mark. Things like that stop mattering after a while,”  _ ‘to me,’  _ went unsaid. 

“It’s a good exercise, though. I assume a conjurer would need to fortify their defenses, even if they can be a  _ specialist  _ at will a fraction of the time.” 

“Spare me the semantics, Lucilfer. You forget you weren’t a  _ born _ killing machine,” the bitterness in Kurapika’s tone became prominent when he enunciated the word  _ born. _

“Maybe so.” 

This, in most situations, was Chrollo’s cue to start rambling about past mishaps, coupled with his tragic backstory. Kurapika waited for the Spider to speak, to once again attempt to close the emotional and interpersonal gap between them. However, Chrollo didn’t share anything about his upbringing, nor did he aim to falsify something in order to appease Kurapika. 

Kurapika didn’t pester him for details. The conversation was supposed to end there, but Chrollo’s voice rang into the room again. 

“Why don’t you go do this in your room? You can grab lunch on the way down.” 

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am.”

“So?”

“ _ I _ was generous enough to bring _ you _ dinner last night. You say you’re a better man than me,  _ Kurapika,  _ and I can’t help but agree with that notion.  _ Now, are you saying better men don’t pay back those below them? _ ” Raised eyebrow, tantalizing. 

Kurapika scoffed, indicating that Chrollo won. 

//

The Spider Head splayed himself haphazardly, on the seat behind Kurapika until he couldn’t maintain his aura anymore; all long limbs with barely any poise. He didn’t bother acknowledging the strange way Chrollo decided to sit, instead wiping sweat away from his forehead, taking off his overall, while leaving the tunic on. Chrollo watched him with that same tight-lipped smile he wore when he found someone amusing, an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Do you wish to fight the floor masters?”

“I assume those are the masters of the remaining Arena.” 

“Correct. So?”

“Isn’t that what we came here for?”

“ _ Yeah,  _ but it’s not like I can force you to fight them. They’re nen users: talented ones at that.” Once again, taunting Kurapika.

“Just stay out of my way.” 

Kurapika walked out of the room  _ and  _ the conversation, ending it for the meantime.

“Noted.” Chrollo said to himself; as some sort of reminder.

//

Apparently, Chrollo’s front door wasn’t locked.  _ An invitation to anyone who would dare, he presumed.  _ Upon further inspection, it looked like Chrollo didn’t want to get up and unlock the door; his sleeping figure said as much. 

_ ‘My bad.’  _ He did take a while. He looked at Chrollo quietly, then aimed the ham sandwich at his torso. It fell harmlessly on Chrollo’s abdomen, who cracked open an eye, unmoving. Before Chrollo could start complaining, Kurapika spoke.

“It’s too late for lunch now. Have that and I’ll make up for it with dinner.” 

“Anything interesting?”

“There’s a good restaurant about twenty minutes from here,” Kurapika raised an eyebrow at Chrollo’s attire. “And wear something appropriate, I don’t feel like being publicly humiliated.” 

Chrollo responded with a soft  _ mhm  _ and closed his eyes, a clear signal that it was time for Kurapika to go. 

After he left, Chrollo checked the time; he had a few hours to spare, enough to get ready for  _ dinner at a restaurant.  _

There were  _ definitely  _ no implications there. Nope, none at all. 

//

After buttoning up his shirt, he clicked the front door shut behind him, locking it this time. He surveyed his surroundings, reaching an expected conclusion;  _ nobody wore any good suits in a fighting haven.  _

Chrollo’s best bet was finding a tailor shop. Some things were better made custom, and killing a tailor after the work was done wasn’t beyond him; it would just show up on the morning news (the same ones Kurapika frequents) which would sully his progress with him. He looked up the locations of a few shops, settling on the closest one.

…

This place certainly wasn’t bad; given the interior design, professionalism from the employees, and  _ especially  _ the quality suits. Chrollo lamented that he couldn’t buy a suit made from scratch, in lieu of a readjusted one. 

Chrollo settled for a black suit made of linen, standing patiently and waiting for the tailor to fit it properly. When she was done, he told her where to add the finishing touches. 

//

Had he gotten Kurapika’s number, he could’ve showed up at the restaurant and gotten a table without wasting some time; oh well, he’ll just have to ask for it tomorrow. Chrollo went to his room to briefly douse some cologne on his neck and wrists. His eyes traced the gauze, although ultimately he didn’t put it on. Kurapika would have ripped it off before they got anywhere near the restaurant. He turned his phone off before exiting the suite.

…

After his third knock, Kurapika opened the door. The first thing Chrollo noticed was the glint of gold and red, Kurapika’s earring dangling just a bit as he moved back to assess Chrollo. He only offered a soft smile and a tilt of the head in response, concerning himself with the subtle woodsy smell in the air, and the way the brilliantly blue vest hugged his shoulders and waist. 

Kurapika’s outfit had a lot of contrast, while Chrollo’s did not; the most visible parts of his outfits were outlined in gold, made evident when he flicked his hand up to make sure his cufflink hadn’t come undone; an excuse to do something while waiting for Kurapika. His minty cologne, strong enough to be astringent, mixed poorly with Kurapika’s cedar too; further proving how different and individualistic they were. 

Chrollo’s interest was furthered by the time his date for tonight came back to the front door. A lover of theatrics, his arm extended as an offer towards Kurapika, who just shot him a glare and rolled his eyes. No tinge of scarlet:  _ so this was a different kind of annoyance. _

Chrollo stored that knowledge away for the time being, electing not to get lost in thought when he had to pay attention to someone. Kurapika didn’t spare him a glance, looking forward. It reminded Chrollo of the way he looked this afternoon, muscles high-strung and brows furrowed. 

//

Kurapika chose the place, and Chrollo didn’t care enough to question it.. That wasn’t the main point however: Kurapika did something, which meant he now had to do something in return. So, when Kurapika told him to stay put, saying he would wait for a table, he raised a hand as a silent ‘hold on’ and insisted on doing it himself. Kurapika shrugged in response, if he wanted to go for it then so be it, less hassle for him.

When the front desk came within his view, superficial charm bled into his face and movements. Eyes pinched just slightly and a polite smile offered to the attendee there.

“Good evening, do you have a vacant table for two by the window?”

“Good evening. There’s a spot currently open; but I may have to check for any reservations first.” 

Chrollo nodded curtly, looking over his shoulder as the older man read the list. Kurapika wasn’t busy trying to manifest daggers in Chrollo’s back  _ miraculously.  _

A family of three; mother, father and baby is what drawed his interest. Chrollo raised an eyebrow,  _ ‘mother hen Kurapika?’ _

“The table is certainly vacant, would you like me to lead the way, sir?” 

Chrollo turned back to face the attendee and nodded.

“Certainly,” the man turned his back, so Chrollo took this opportunity to call out to Kurapika.

“Kurapika. Let’s go.” He motioned with two fingers; index and middle pressed together. In one swift motion, he pointed them towards himself, then outwardly, and repeated. He could already see the other’s emotions surfacing, which could only mean one thing:

_ This was going to be a long, enthralling night.  _


	6. EPISODE VI: Quintessential Rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't like chapter summaries.

Kurapika sat down before Chrollo could implement more of his theatrics, thus eliciting an exaggerated pout from him.  _ How childish,  _ he would’ve rolled his eyes at Chrollo if he wasn’t busy reading the menu the moment he sat down. Chrollo sat in front of him, mirroring Kurapika. 

They knew what they were going to order by the time the waiter stopped by, yet Chrollo asked for a bottle of wine just as the waiter turned their back on them, an obvious sign that it was a last minute choice. 

Now that they were seated facing one another, Kurapika could inconspicuously study the Spider Head in front of him, who raised an eyebrow in his direction, seemingly amused.

“Am I to your liking?” 

“The suit is,” Kurapika responded dryly, then continued: “who did you kill for it?”

“Surprisingly, nobody.” 

“You paid for it with blood money; I doubt abstaining just this once will change much.” 

“Don’t Hunters do the same, to some extent?” 

Kurapika raised an eyebrow rigidly: Chrollo didn’t falter.

“You hunt things, often live things, and get recompensed for it. The Association had no qualms hunting down the Chimera Ants, even if, had they been in the same position, they would’ve been doing the same thing.”

“That’s not really the same thing.  _ You  _ have no reason to kill. Hell, the most reasonable murder you have on your reportoire is  _ Hisoka. _ ” 

“Mhm, had he not come for my Spiders, it may have been a little different.” He clapped his hands together, barely audible. Kurapika swore he caught Chrollo looking at his hands somberly for a second. 

“That explains the vacancies.” 

“Interesting that you noticed; are you perhaps inclined to join?” If they weren’t in public, Kurapika would’ve aimed the menu straight for that stupid cross of his. 

“ _ Not happening. _ ”

“Hasty conclusion. Why not?”

“You killed my people?”

“So did you.”

“ _ Because _ you killed my people.” 

“Well,  _ it’s not like I can bring them back. _ What exactly do you want me to do about that? Do you want me to help you  _ procreate _ ?” 

Kurapika’s eye twitched, Chrollo’s smile deepening on his face. 

“You can only make amends by dying and burning in Hell.”

“I find that rather counterproductive.” 

Kurapika kissed his teeth, sound barely audible then responded:

“ _ How so? _ ” 

“I’m more useful alive, plus I already know your trick. You might work alone best, but you lack experience and your feelings make you sloppy. Ergo, your overall chance of winning is dogshit.”

“Hm… True, unfortunately. I’ll kill you eventually.” Kurapika put an end to the conversation with that, choosing to wait for their food to arrive.

The silence didn’t bother Chrollo: it was welcomed, even. If he wasn’t trying to show a little bit of respect to his companion, he’d be reading right now. Instead, he looked out the window, tilting his head towards it slightly. He pressed his hand to his left cheek and kept his head propped, a lazy pose meant to express that he wasn’t on guard. 

The waiter arrived with their food, bowing then leaving once the table was set up. 

Chrollo was halfway through his well-done steak when Kurapika spoke again, who was mindlessly playing around with his salmon dish instead of eating it, indicating that he was troubling himself.

“What do you think of Illumi?”

“The guy’s a ghastly freak, of course.”

Even the worst of the worst regarded Killua’s older brother with some form of disgust, apparently. 

“Why do you ask?”

“You already know, so I see no point in responding.”

“Mere assumption. The white-haired boy that tailed us has  _ Silva _ painted all over him.”

“His father?”

“Mhm.” He ate while Kurapika continued. 

“It’s only a matter of time before Illumi teams up with his vengeful  _ husband  _ to use my guts as sausage skin. Or something just as inane; wouldn’t put it past them.”

“I see, please let me know when that happens, so I can spectate.” 

Chrollo muffled a low laugh, putting his knife and fork down. He dug into his pocket for a pen, and wrote his phone number on a napkin. 

“Fair enough: here you go. Once I have your phone number I’ll be sure to give you a call, although you’re probably going to be with me when the bastard clown tries to slit my throat with a playing card.”

If Kurapika was surprised, he didn’t show it, folding the napkin and pocketing it. What a normal reaction. 

Chrollo thought that was a red flag. 

“Semantics aside, it makes sense for me to have your phone number, you’re impulsive and leave on a whim.” Kurapika looked at him like he was a child. It was ironic, since the other was eight years his senior. 

“Can you be a dear and tell me what time it is while you have that phone in your hand?” 

Once again, Kurapika’s fingers inched towards the menu out of reflex. 

“Nine thirty.”

“Are you tired?”

“No.” 

Chrollo hummed in response to that, electing not to speak until he was done with his meal. He popped the wine bottle open, standing up. He leaned over and filled Kurapika’s glass first, then his own. 

He raised his glass, swishing the red liquid with a circling movement of his hand, looking back at the window. 

“I’m ready when you are.” 

Kurapika didn’t bother looking up from his plate to respond.

//

Chrollo took the rest of the wine home in a bag; Kurapika wanted to retire to his suite after he finished eating. He followed the Spider, heedless of where the other was leading them, assuming they were going back to Heaven’s Arena.  _ If that were the case, he wouldn’t be going in the opposite direction. _ Kurapika processed present events at an excruciatingly slow pace when he wasn't in the mood, which is probably why he almost bumped into the Spider's back.

“Where the fuck are we going?”

“Nowhere, we’re already here.” 

Chrollo leaned against the railing of a bridge. The streetlights and moon bounced off the water, and onto the front of his face. He stared at the currents, the water crescenting below. Kurapika watched him take a swig of the wine.

“You could have done this in your room.”

“You can’t see the stars there.”

“ _ I  _ don’t need nor want to see them.”

“If that were the case you would’ve left already. Here,” arm extended towards him, bottle in hand. 

Kurapika was _ too tired _ of his shit now, having been worn down by Chrollo’s antics after spending too much time together. That’s the excuse he used when he took the bottle from his hand, tipping his head back and taking a long swig. The warmth in his chest blossomed, far more fervently than the first glass he had at the restaurant. He took another, shorter, swig and passed the bottle back. 

_ ‘I’m so sick of everything,’  _ rang in his head like a scream in an empty room. He chose to stare down at the lake to mask the sour facial expression he had. Unfortunately for him, Chrollo was interested in what kept Kurapika here; so he made it his business to be attentive, harmless Kurapika or not. So, he passed the bottle back swiftly. They kept at it until the bottle was empty in the Kurta’s hand.

He stared at it, then threw it in the lake.

At this point, Chrollo was only slightly buzzed. He was used to drinking far more than a cheap bottle of 5% alcohol wine. Kurapika continued to lean against the rails grimly; Chrollo moving didn’t alert him. 

“I’m going to go find something else to drink; maybe don’t throw yourself over the railing.” 

The only response he got was a gruff “sure, whatever,” before taking his leave. 

  
  


…

In Chrollo’s opinion, talking about how he broke into a liquor store and bagged a bunch of bottles of brandy wasn’t worth his time. With that in mind, we’ll fast forward to the current scene.

The bridge served as one of the entrances to a park, hence the lack of seating all around the area. Kurapika had no tolerance to alcohol, so it was natural that he’d crash on the grass right next to the bridge, staring up at the sky. There weren’t many buildings around the area, so the twinkle of a few stars were visible to his blurry vision. He was currently busy wallowing in self-loathing, the familiar burn of his throat making itself known when he shut his eyes so hard he saw the stars painted on his eyelids. 

The next time he opened them, Chrollo was staring back.

_ ‘Creepy.’  _

Chrollo said nothing, in favour of swinging the bag: several bottles slid against one another in succession, which prompted his interest. He sat up slightly, hand out in wordless demand. The other didn’t hesitate to pass him a bottle, which he took to unscrewing and downing in one go.

Kurapika sputtered.

_ ‘Fuck.’  _

“Hold your horses, cowboy. That’s real liquor you’re holding there; I’d take it easy if I were a puritan.”  _ Subtlety be damned.  _

It burned his throat, reminding him of the countless nights he spent screaming in front of his parents’ graves. He buried their bodies, yet their eyes travelled the world. They couldn’t rest properly, neither could he with guilt of being alive. He wanted to beat the shit out of Chrollo, ask him why he didn’t kill him on sight, why they were doing this right now, what he really wanted from him. 

The other wasn’t paying enough attention to see that he was going through his second teenage angst phase as a fully grown adult. So, while Kurapika was tormenting himself, Chrollo sat down next to him, knees bent as much as he could without ripping his trousers, taking a swig of Jack Daniels and looking up at the sky. He used to do the exact same thing, right before forming the  _ Gen’ei Ryodan _ , making martyrs of people, camping out in the middle of nowhere. Air polluted and scratched the inside of your lungs with every inhale; trash turned to crisp after a bonfire. When everything was quiet and everyone was asleep, Chrollo would stare up at the sky and wonder if the universe decided he didn’t deserve the privilege of basic necessities merely because those with luck forced others to lack it.

By the time he sipped a quarter of the bottle his head was pounding, body heavy and motor sensors dulled. The same applied to Kurapika, but he didn’t mind; no, he had other plans. 

“What... Where the Hell are you going?” Chrollo murmured, eyes glazed.

“You’ll see.” 

The steadiness and confidence of Kurapika’s tone was gone. The words mixed on his tongue, barely tangible when he opened his mouth, concerning Chrollo.  _ What a lightweight.  _ He could do nothing else except watch him try to get up, knees buckling, falling back again. He repeated this process a couple of times, making Chrollo huff internally and slant his eyes.

“Are you done?” 

That was the last straw. 

Chrollo blinked, seemingly laying down once he opened his eyes again. Above him was Kurapika; eyes flashing scarlet in passing. 

His fingers sloppily kissed Chrollo’s throat, thumbs intertwining, caging Chrollo’s trachea between them. His so-called victim chose to see how he’ll continue instead of pushing Kurapika away. He was barely buzzed, with intact motor skills which worked (with slight delay), and his eyes half-opened. 

The only thing that gave away Chrollo’s nonchalant facade was the hand that latched onto Kurapika’s bicep, squeezing it immediately upon impact. In turn, Kurapika’s eyes flashed a brilliant scarlet for longer this time around, realising what was happening. In his depressed stupor, it took him a while to process why the chain didn’t pierce his heart already.

“ _ You’re getting off to this?! _ ” 

Chrollo smiled.

“ _ Bingo. _ ” 

The sound of disgust Kurapika made was indescribable. 

“You wound me so,” the raspy sound of his voice loosened the fingers around his throat. He straddled his lap, eyes no longer scarlet, dejected. 

His shoulders slumped and he pitifully sat back on the edge of Chrollo’s thighs, who sat up on his elbows. 

“Don’t think those chains are pure in my personal space either.” 

The only response was a small ‘shut the fuck up’. He had no more strength to move, which left him in an awkward predicament where he didn’t plan on asking for assistance from the killer of his lineage.  _ His seat _ didn’t mind, electing to gently push Kurapika off once he felt it was necessary. Then, he slowly got up and stretched his legs out. He picked the bag and Kurapika up in one go, heading to Heaven’s Arena.

Chrollo wasn’t adverse to sleeping in a public park in expensive suits (while being a class-A bounty), hungover with a pretty, young man who could pass off as female to any idiot (which he once was) who didn’t look twice,  _ however _ he would be the one to blame if something happened. 

So, he headed to the hotel with an angry-but-weak drunk and the rest of their stolen booze.


	7. EPISODE VII: Interpersonal Advancement

Kurapika sat up, stretching the muscles of his back and arms slowly, in circular motions. The shirt he had on restricted further movement, which prompted him to cease. Opening his eyes was a mistake too, since the blinding afternoon light didn’t mix well with his raging hangover. It compared to a shriek next to one’s ear drums, the pain dulling slowly and remaining in the background after the initial impact. 

He clutched the blanket he had on him out of reflex and leaned back against the pillow, exhaling. 

_ ‘Heaven’s Arena. This is fine, then.’ _ He laid back down to rest. He thought about the way his heart beat and his own breathing. 

_ ‘Wait a minute.’  _ He inhaled again. 

Minty cologne bit at his nose.

“Lucilfer.” He hesitated. “Lucilfer?” The passive, questioning tone was foreign on his tongue when addressing Chrollo. 

Kurapika opened his eyes just as Chrollo sat down with a mug of coffee in his hand, an opened book on the table beside him. He hitched a leg over the other, taking a long sip before acknowledging his existence with the tilt of his head. It was obvious he woke up recently, especially given by his lack of shirt and pajama pants get-up. Being nice, Chrollo broke the awkward silence.

“Good morning.” 

“Why are you in my room?”

“Why would I be in your room?”

“That’s why I’m asking.” 

“ _ You’re _ in  _ my  _ room.” 

Kurapika rolled his eyes, registering that he smelled like booze and grass; in the same clothes as last night.

“No violation? Why, I didn’t take you for a gentleman.” 

“The loving embrace you gave me using your fingers alone was enough for me last night.” 

Kurapika threw a pillow at him, which he swatted away with the back of his hand.  _ So volatile. _

“I’ll get you something to eat, if you want me to.”

“How kind of you.”

“Of course; why would I let you die of famine after all the effort I went through to get you unscathed? More or less, anyway.” 

Kurapika pulled the blanket over his shoulders and sunk into bed, monopolising it. It smelled like Chrollo, which didn’t smell like shit, at least.

After finishing his coffee, he changed into a proper pair of trousers and slipped into his fur-lined coat. It was time to find horrible fast food for Kurapika to binge on alongside a handful of painkillers.

…

Chrollo came back with two bags of terrible comfort food and set the bigger one on the nightstand, along with a box of painkillers and a bottle of water. Then, he went back to his original seat, busying himself with a book and a beef burger. He continued to look over the other while he was unconscious. There was no real reason to; he wasn't in any danger, but something stopped him from going anywhere else. 

Kurapika woke up an hour later, licking his dry lips and grimacing at the unpleasant cracks that riddled them. He downed three painkillers with some water, eyeing the bag of junk food next to them. The creep watching over him didn't move to acknowledge his reawakening, instead picking at some cold fries; half-forgotten when his focus shifted to the book completely. The pain came back, so he stopped analysing one of the most dangerous men alive, electing to eat the chicken wrap. It cooled down to warm temperature, which meant that it still tasted somewhat fine, and crammed some cold fries in-between (so he didn't feel bad for letting them go to waste). 

After he was the pain having subsided just barely, Kurapika decided:  _ he was in no position _ to fight. Chrollo must have thought the same, since he sat watching over him like a wounded child. It was insulting to some extent, on the other hand,  _ strange _ . The man never explained his intentions properly; letting others try to make them up for him instead, letting them put him in a good (or bad) light by themselves.

How long would he have to stay here? He wanted to wrap things up quickly, so he could forcefully pilot the rest of the situation and find the eyes of his fallen brethren. Chrollo's concern was to toughen him up from what he could tell; if he told him to back off, Kurapika was sure they could move on to better things. 

The subject of his thoughts glanced and raised an eyebrow in his direction; since he himself furrowed an eyebrow, the top half of his body going rigid and chin tipped downwards in deep thought. Chrollo shut his book just a tad harder than normal to grab his attention, the blond's gaze locking onto him automatically right after, relaxing when he realised what caused the sound. 

"Shower when you can; you reek of shit." Chrollo finally piped up. 

_ How quaint. _

"Thank you for the compliment, being recognised as otherwise from the likes of you is an insult." 

"I'm sure anyone with a sense of smell would agree. Especially if they had  _ synesthesia _ ." 

"Another fantastical word you pulled from a fictional book, I presume." 

"It's a real condition. The subject in question would be able to draw smells, patterns, or anything that incites one's senses, which changes from subject to subject, from experiencing something whether real or abstract. Ergo, they'd imagine a turd in your case."

_ 'How classy of you, Lucilfer, to attack others when they're wounded.'  _

Kurapika didn't bite back after this, his headache amplifying with his anger. He laid back down and closed his eyes.

"When I can get up." Was the last thing he said, responding to Chrollo's initial statement. 

The other knew when it was time to stop teasing the last of the Kurta, preferring to maintain or even better their current situationship. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: Shizuku would say he was  _ bullying _ the chain user if she were there. He smiled at the thought of her clueless look and observational tone. 

Chrollo decided that he won't stay away from his  _ family _ for too long, leaving the suite thereafter. 

  
  


//

What was he planning to do again? 

Oh, right.  _ Fight the floor masters _ . It should be easy; he's done it before. The ones he fought were replaced, of course, not that that mattered since the only interesting fight was going to be between the current 251st's floor master and the old one.  _ Which was him, of course. _ He destroyed the top of Heaven's Arena after honouring his deal with Hisoka; won, too, but that  _ damned fuck _ could just  _ not stay dead. _

So, he ditched the arena after exhausting his powers, weary of being found by the godforsaken revived clown. Chrollo spent a lot of time piecing together the events that occurred during their fight to no avail: he still had no idea how the fucker left the place alive. If that traitor was still here, his eyes would be mere slits, lips turned upwards in a coy smile, calling his death-defying act a  _ 'magic trick'.  _

He essentially side-tracked himself once again, wasting a solid ten minutes of his life sitting on a bench and simmering in his self-hate and annoyance with both himself and Hisoka. 

At least he signed up before that. 

When he did so, he knew he had a few candidates stare him down, their aura poor attempts at instilling fear into him. He set the date for today, stepping back and watching the pair move forwards to sign up. By the time they realised who he was, they’d already both signed up on the same day. Dread creeped up their spine, knees almost jello. 

A superficial smile kept him from grimacing, letting his opponents come to the slow realisation that they signed up for a match with the devil. 

“The date I set is for today.” He pointed out metaphorically, and literally, right index finger out towards the receptionist. 

He got no response from them; the receptionist informing them all that their fights are scheduled for today. 

_ Easy wins for him.  _

So here he was now, sitting on a bench talking to himself and reminiscing about his nightmare fuel. This was  _ a huge waste of time _ , or at least that's how it felt, but he could only want for the scheduled time: nine in the evening. It was fair, given that they had little to no time to advertise the fight between  _ him _ (that's who really mattered here) and some nobodies who thought they could crush a newbie, realising one second too late that they made a mortal mistake. Chrollo considered them a bunch of idiots.

  
  


He got a soft drink from the vending machine, sitting back down on the bench and pulling his phone out. For the first time in days, he clicked on the only message he had on his phone: a group chat.

It appears that they were already discussing something, which promptly halted the moment Machi, Nobunaga and Phinks noticed he was active.

_ Nobunaga is typing… _

**[Nob]: Danchou! Where have you been?!**

**[Machi]: Fooling around probably.**

Phinks didn't bother saying anything. Knowing him, he was diligently waiting for some vague excuse from him.

**[Chrollo (my number)]: Busy.**

**[Chrollo (my number)]: The** **_Mairukōran_ ** **is beautiful. I've absorbed every bit of it.**

**[Machi]: Are you going to do it yourself?**

Machi referred to his never ending cycle of acquiring something stunning, obsessively enjoying it, then selling it in the underworld for a pretty penny.

**[Chrollo (my number)]: Of course. I doubt anyone else is in the same vicinity as me right now.**

**[Shi-zu-ku]: Where's that?**

**[Chrollo (my number)]: The Republic of Padokea.**

**[Shi-zu-ku]: Oh, still? That's interesting.**

**[Kalluto (tainted child)]: Aniki didn't do anything, did he?**

**[Chrollo (my number)]: Nothing that I know of. Why, did he?**

_ Kalluto (tainted child) is typing… _

He stopped typing for a solid two seconds, then started again.

_ Kalluto (tainted child) is typing… _

**[Kalluto (tainted child)]: Not that I know of. I assume he's doing whatever Hisoka asks of him.**

**[Kalluto (tainted child)]: At the price of something he wants.**

**[Chrollo (my number)]: He wouldn't do just about anything just because he's betrothed to Hisoka; that's true.**

**[Chrollo (my number)]: In two months time we'll gather on the Azian continent.**

**[Chrollo (my number)]: You understand why further information can't be provided right now.**

**[Chrollo (my number)]: Is Illumi still in the vicinity?**

**[Machi]: Supposed to be.**

**[Machi]: He leaves the group everytime Nobunaga speaks.**

_ Machi added Illumi (prideless son) to  _ _ Discussion _ __

**[Chrollo (my number)]: fair enough. Contact me if something urgent needs attention. Otherwise, continue with your issued orders.**

Chrollo pocketed his phone right after, bored of the entire debacle. He doubted Illumi could do much to him, or Kurapika for that matter.

The power gap between them was significant; sure, but that was him looking down on Kurapika. Perhaps as a way to calm himself when looking at him, because Chrollo knew for a fact that if they hadn't agreed on using the  _ Judgement Chain, _ he would be six feet under right now.

Kurapika was strong, stronger than he gave him credit for, but his biggest weaknesses were his friends and his solitary fighting style against a band of A-ranked killers and thieves who lived day to day, treating each one as their last. 

People who were satisfied with their lives since they got to live however they wished. Kurapika's iron will existed to tear down that mindset; something he could respect, but mentally, he'd already lost this battle. Chrollo loved mind games more than anything, and Kurapika couldn't  _ win _ since he couldn't  _ kill him _ , meaning he was at an impasse. Either way, he mustn't ramble too much about this sort of tedious shit: he keeps deviating from the original subject.

They had to watch out for Illumi, something he would have made known had Kurapika sent him a message already. Impatience was getting the best of him while he rationalised why Kurapika  _ couldn't _ have done so already. 

_ He was hungover in bed. Why would he be checking his phone right now? For all he knew, the battery was dead too. _

_ Whateve _ r.

Chrollo spent the rest of his free time swiping street food from the lower floors of the Arena and watching a few small fights on the TV out of boredom. 

…

When the time came to fight, he went back up to the 200th floor, listening to the receptionist's directions allowing him to find the ring he had to be present in. 

He was late, of course. The only light in the room was set on the ring; the roaring crowd in the background almost deafening. 

Finally, the first fight where  _ nen _ was definitely involved. Too bad his opponents were terrible. 

He saw one in the ring alone; which he assumed to be a badly-shaped enhancer. 

Chrollo didn't think he'd need to bring out his book, much less be on his guard all that much.

Thus, he didn't bother registering the fight.

//

That was Kurapika's job. At some point in the afternoon, he turned the TV on, head light, pain still resonating through his skull just a tad. What mattered most was that he was  _ bored _ out of his mind. That's why he turned the TV on initially; having kept it on after hearing Chrollo's name alongside someone else's, his opponent for this match. 

_ 'Gods, I still smell like shit.' _

He eyed the bathroom door; ajar and inviting, then, he glanced at the plain pajama set draped over the free seat by the table. Never used, by the looks of it. It came with the suite: complementary alongside the shampoo and TV, bed covers, etcetera. 

Getting out of bed was strenuous, but if he had to stay in bed like this another second he'd scold himself for not doing something as simple as showering. He got up, taking the change of clothes, and showered.

Fifteen minutes later, he fell back into bed with an 'oomph'. What else did he have around here for entertainment?

_ He could go back to his room _ .

Kurapika didn't really have the energy, respect, nor care to do so currently. Plus, there wasn't anything interesting in his room. He looked up, eyes landing on the table. 

Leftover junk food and a book.

He conjured a chain to snatch the book off of the table, preferring to read while waiting for Chrollo's fight to begin. 

…

Kurapika closed  _ Count Magnus and Other Ghost Stories.  _ Halfway through  _ Casting The Runes, _ one of the stories compiled into this book, Chrollo’s name rang through the speakers and successfully caught his attention. He closed the book with surprising care, setting it on the nightstand, and moving to sit on the lower part of the mattress, closer to the TV. 

“ _ Ready… Set, fight! _ ” Kurapika turned the volume down after his ears were blown off.

The enhancer studied Chrollo, arms guarding his face. Medical gauze decorated his fists, arms, and legs. Blue eyes piercing Chrollo’s cedar ones, eyebrows furrowed and curly, red hair restrained in a low ponytail. He was the first one to attack, faint green aura prominent around his body the moment he made contact with Chrollo, who bent his knees, arms up with a large amount of his  _ nen _ in place. 

Kurapika recognised the technique:  _ Ken. _

Chrollo pushed forwards, effectively forcing his opponent back: which is why he resorted to jumping backwards into a defensive position.  _ ‘So that’s what he was doing; trying to knock Chrollo down and amass points,’  _ the stranger was sharp enough to recognise the power gap between him and Chrollo then choose the best course of action. 

Chrollo knew far better than him when it came to fighting experience, proven by the immediate response to his opponent’s movement. He moved forwards,  _ Ko _ surrounding his fist. The redhead’s reaction paled in comparison;  _ Ken _ focused on his arms a second too late. He diverted the direction of his fist from his breast to his lower abdomen, punching the other out of the ring and possibly crushing an internal organ or two. 

The redhead tried to get up; but yet again, to no avail. He passed out on the floor near the entrance.

“ _ Chrollo Lucilfer wins this match! _ ”

From Kurapika’s perspective, it didn’t look like he said anything, leaving the ring immediately after KO’ing his opponent.

The following match still spelled Chrollo as one of its combatants, but he was far more interested in finishing Chrollo’s book, so, for the first time today, Kurapika got up and sat on the untouched lounge chair by the table, looking out at the lit up city noting he wasted a day away by being stupidly hungover because of strong booze. Maybe he shouldn’t drink so heavily next time.

He cracked the book open once again, leaning back.

…

By the time Chrollo made his way back to  _ his  _ room, Kurapika had already finished the book. Instead, he moved onto the appendix, fingers thumbing the last couple of pages as he read the end of  _ A Night in King's College Chapel _ . He registered the lazy way his new company kicked off his shoes by the door, walking in with two cups. He set one on the table, pushing it towards Kurapika just a little, while he set the other one on his side of the table, taking his coat off, folding it and draping it on the back of his chair.

Out of pure curiosity, Kurapika’s sticky fingers latched onto Chrollo’s drink, it was so  _ colourful  _ and cold. Something he never expected the other to order. It didn’t taste bad at all; his sweet tooth coming to light. It was still in his hand when Chrollo sat down.

“Can I have my drink back?”

“Do you want it back after I drank from it?”

“I prefer it over the vanilla tea.” Kurapika begrudgingly set it back down on the table. 

“I didn’t take you for a lover of sweets. Besides, it’s much more fitting to drink tea when reading a book, don’t you think?” Chrollo raised a taunting eyebrow, the semblance of a shit-eating grin appearing on his face. 

“I doubt you have good taste when it comes to anything that doesn’t include melodic genocide and obtaining precious rarities, which means this tea probably tastes like shit.”

“There’s a packet of sugar next to it.” Which Chrollo dumped into the tea the moment Kurapika looked at it. He stirred the tea, pushing it closer to him again. 

If he didn’t want to finish this book, he would have left by now; he couldn’t bring himself to  _ ask  _ the Spider head for things. Rightfully his or not. Chrollo didn’t bother with further semantics either, draping his legs over the armrest that faced the window, having his drink while staring down at the night sky and the bustle of the city. 

He went back to reading, trying the tea; it was a bit sweet, courtesy of the other asshole in the room. 

…

Chrollo broke the peaceful silence with his annoying voice yet again. Drink long forgotten on the table, having leaned forwards with elbows on his knees and chin in one palm. He continued staring out the window; the light from accentuating the sharp edges of his face while the lamp’s showed the broad expanse of his face. It had the same effect on Kurapika, more or less: he was hidden from the window’s light by the chair, and most of the lamp’s from the book. He set it down when he knew Chrollo was going to start talking again, plus, he finished his book anyway so there was no point in cradling it now. 

“When do you want to leave?”  _ To find the Scarlet Eyes.  _

“Immediately,” came out of his mouth without thinking.

“Fair enough. Tomorrow, then?” 

“What about the 200th floor?”

“I doubt you actually want to finish this affair.”

Kurapika’s pause confirmed that.

“Are you attempting to play nice?” Chrollo raised an eyebrow in response.

“ _ No?  _ I don’t think so. I assumed that finding them as quickly as possible leaves extra time.” 

“For?”

“I’m planning something grand in a couple of months, and I want to acquire at least two or three pairs before that happens.”

_ That’s it. _

“You plan on having me act as a puppet in it.”

Chrollo hummed, shoulders sagging. Then, he shrugged subtly.

“Well, you can’t  _ not  _ be by my side. Might as well, right?”

“ _ No.  _ Fuck no. No thank you. Associating with you would alert the Association, much less  _ helping. _ ”

“Someday, you might have to choose from two things you don’t like,  _ again.  _ You won’t like it; but it will benefit you in some way.”

“ _ And that’s supposed to mean what exactly? _ ”

“Oh, I’m sure you already know.” The smile on his face was heard in his tone, pissing Kurapika off further. 

Kurapika went back to his suite faster than he anticipated that night, shutting the front door behind him with a fraction of his force, mindful not to break everything on this floor.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see any errors, let me know.


End file.
